


Dominoes and Dynamite

by OperationBlackSheep



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Competition, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Mischief, Romance, Shapeshifting, Teleportation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperationBlackSheep/pseuds/OperationBlackSheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony's solo attempt to catch Loki goes awry, he finds himself struggling to counteract the god's plans and unravel his secrets. Loki is vaguely amused by these attempts.</p>
<p>Rated for language: might become explicit. This will become slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Sighting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome! This is my first story on this site, so please let me know if you spot any errors in grammar, formatting, spelling- anything at all.

In retrospect, Tony decided that it was all Pepper's fault.

No, seriously.

If she hadn't decided to have one of her rants about being "underappreciated" and "underpaid" and "working like a pack mule for you lazy jerks," then Tony wouldn't have offended her by not really listening (He couldn't help that he was in the middle of taking the toaster apart for scraps), and she wouldn't have stormed out with the sandwiches she had brought them from the deli down the street, and Tony wouldn't have pulled the short straw and had to go to the deli himself for the team's lunch (since all they had in the Mansion was mayonnaise and half a jar of pickles).

So, obviously, the whole ordeal was Pepper's fault.

Tony stared at the menu board behind the counter, wishing he had written down his team's orders. Pepper no doubt had them memorized, but she was certain to hang up on him if he attempted to call and ask her. Behind him, the growing line shifted and muttered to itself. The people ranged from a wraith-like woman in business attire to three burly construction workers from a work in progress down the street. They were all eyeing him with oddly similar expressions of impatience and irritation. Tony was sure that he had been at the front of the line a full minute, but the pimply cashier looked too star-struck to prompt him.

"Er... yes. I'd like two Pork Meatball Heroes, one Philly Cheese Steak... er... one Roast Pork, hold the tomatoes- or was it the onions? No, the tomatoes- one Blue Smoke Brisket-," with each added order, the line's grumbling grew louder. "-two Meatlover's Supremes, extra salami on one, extra ham and turkey on both, and three BLTs, extra bacon, extra tomatoes, light on the lettuce." Tony leaned against the counter as the sandwich assemblers sprang into action. The kid manning the register was punching keys faster than Tony could keep track.

"Alright, Iron- Mr. Stark. That'll be eighty-eight seventy-two. Please." He looked both awed and anxious, as though he feared Tony would just grab the sandwiches and leave laughing.

"You got it," Tony smiled. The kid offered a half-hearted grin in return, but neither of them moved for several moments.

"... Mr. Stark?"

"What? Oh! Right, paying, sorry." Tony fumbled with his wallet as he pulled it from his back pocket. He was sure that it had been some sort of fancy gift, but the leather creaked like new when he cracked it open, a testament to its infrequent use. He never paid for things himself- he had Pepper for that. He only ever picked things out, or demanded them, or (when he was especially drunk) pointed and grunted.

The kid swiped his card and handed it back, eyes wide. Tony could practically hear him thinking "I just touched Iron Man's American Express. Mike won't believe this."

Making the sandwiches took time, as was expected, and the construction workers behind him practically shouldered him out of the way as Tony hefted the bags and staggered to the door. If he'd been in his suit, Tony would have glared or snapped at them, but each of them seemed to be thrice his size. He decided against it.

Tony turned and headed towards the construction zone- it was the quickest and preferred way to the Mansion, despite the increased chances of being struck in the head by chunks of falling plaster.

The shouts, hammering, and power tools from the site added to the rich, obnoxious sounds of New York in a manner that could be best described as cacophonous. Tony's ears rang as he shuffled through the crowded, covered walkway that the crew had set aside for pedestrians. It was not terribly unlike a battle zone, complete with excessive plaster dust and the occasional loud crash or curse.

Because of his disorientation, Tony didn't even react when he first saw Loki. Maybe it was because the god seemed to belong there, amid the chaos, and maybe it was because, by that point, Tony's mind was too addled by noise to be of much use.

Once it did filter through, he stopped short and jerked his head around to be sure. Someone knocked into him and swore loudly, but Tony paid them no mind, his knuckles white on the sandwich bags. He wouldn't be here of all places, would he?

But there Loki stood, just behind three muscly men who weren't coated in nearly as much dirt or dust or grime as the rest of the men. Contractors, Tony guessed. Loki himself somehow looked spotless in his black and grey pinstripes and trademark green scarf, and it took Tony another few seconds to process that and come up with: magic.

The four men were all leaning over a large table set up near what would be the entrance of the new building. Loki had positioned himself slightly behind the tallest of the three workers, so that it looked almost like a child peeking around his father. But what on earth would Loki be interested-?

Tony's hands went cold, and not just from lack of circulation from the bags. The blueprints. Loki was staring at the blueprints for the building, learning the building's strengths and weaknesses before it even truly came into being, gaining a terrific advantage. What if he was going to use that knowledge to trap innocent people? Or the Avengers? Or maybe Loki would just plant a bomb and detonate it whenever he felt like it...

Tony dropped the sandwiches with a curse and clambered over the temporary barrier between the pedestrians and the construction site. He stumbled on the dismount and knocked into a stack of two-by-fours. One or two tumbled to the ground with loud clatters, the alien sound drawing a surprising number of eyes and shouts. He didn't stop, only hastened towards the central table, wishing desperately that he had his suit. Or handcuffs. Or anything, really.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing, asshat? This is a construction zone, not an amusement park!"

It was one of the workers - contractors, he corrected - at the blueprints table. His fellows had turned towards him as well, looking outraged, and when Tony sought the Trickster God, his eyes met green. Loki didn't even have the decency to look surprised as he eyed Tony in return, a familiar smirk playing around his lips.

Tony swore and broke into a run, but instead of disappearing in a flourish of green mist as Tony expected, Loki only turned and walked swiftly though the milling, hurrying workers. Tony put on a burst of speed, dodging people left and right in his frenzy to reach Loki before Loki reached the civilians.

The god had almost made it to the barrier at the far side when Tony tackled him in a flying leap that would've made Fury proud. The two of them toppled the gate with an almighty crash, drawing stares and shouts and a scream or two. Tony's head clipped the pavement harder than he would've liked, giving Loki a chance to twist up and out of his grip. Teeth gritted, Tony pushed himself up and sprang once more, locking his arms firmly around Loki's frame-

Loki's suddenly shorter, thinner frame.

Somebody was screaming in his ear:

"Let go, let go of me! Help! Somebody, please, help me! He won't let me go, HELP!"

The voice was shrill and terrified and coming from the body that Tony was clutching. He had barely a moment to process the perfume in his nose and the softness of the body pressed against his before beefy hands grabbed his shoulders and arms and wrenched him off of Loki.

"Get off of her, you sack of shit!" One of the construction had him from behind, and another three were gripping his arms and hands. Tony struggled, staring at the stumbling young woman he had been forced to release. She was dressed in a rumpled, dusty business suit, and was covering her face with her hands as she staggered away, still shrieking. Tony could have sworn that the eyes he glimpsed between her fingers were green as envy. A young woman in purple corduroys moved forward as though trying to console her, but the dark-haired woman turned and fled.

"Hey! Someone stop him, he's-"

Tony's desperate shout was interrupted as one of the construction workers socked him soundly in the jaw, followed by another to his gut that made him bend in two.

Winded, Tony could only listen to the workers snarl at him. "You don't treat women like that, you asshole-" One of them kneed him in the face, and Tony wondered how bad his shiner would be.

"-swear to God, if it was up to me, I'd kill you myself-" There was a final punch to Tony's solar plexus that left him choking on a lack of air before the heavy hands on his shoulders vanished. He had no time to feel relieved before smaller, steadier hands clasped his forearms and wrenched them around his neck.

"Sir, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will-,"

An officer? Metal snapped closed around Tony's wrists. An officer. An actual police officer was arresting him for assaulting Loki. Didn't they usually hand out medals for that?

"There's- there's been- a mistake," Tony gasped out.

"-you have the right to an attorney- I saw the whole thing, you bastard, so shut it -you have the right to-"

"You don't understand- I'm Tony Stark, I'm Iron Man; that- that Loki, a criminal-"

The man shook him roughly. "I don't care if you're the Goddamn Hulk, you don't grab women like that. Now shut up and move your ass."

Tony blinked sweat out of his eyes as the officer forced him to straighten and marched him in the direction of a squad car. The people lining the block were all looking at him with faces of disgust or avid interest. There were countless camera phones out to capture the moment.

As the officer grabbed Tony's hair and stuffed him into the car, Tony glimpsed a dark-haired woman in a crisp, clean business suit standing on the opposite corner, watching him with a self-satisfied little smirk.

Tony's booking went by in a blur. His insistence that it was Loki that he had grabbed fell on the deaf ears of his arresting officer, and by the time they arrived at the station, Tony was too distressed to make much sense at all. Most of the officers that he passed on the way to the cell just looked at him with concern that faded to disgust as the officer guiding him explained why he had been brought in

His cheekbone throbbed and- if he wasn't mistaken - his aching jaw was bleeding where a ring or something on the worker's hand had gouged the skin. Tony didn't even want to think about the bruises and internal damage he would have in his stomach.

The officer finally un-cuffed him and tossed him into a single cell. Literally, tossed. Tony caught himself with numbed hands and grimaced as his palms came away filthy and stinging.

He heard the officer's muttering and footsteps leaving him behind, and Tony heaved himself to his feet. "H-hey!" He grasped the bars, pressing his face to the metal to try and catch the man's eye. "Hey, what about a phone call?"

"You'll get your call tomorrow. For now, think about what you did to that poor girl."

Tony's heart sank and settled somewhere below his feet. It wasn't like he hadn't ever spent the night in jail before (Lord knows, he had), but this time a) he hadn't done anything wrong, and b) he was sure that Loki was prowling the city, preparing to blow up the building or something.

He made his way gingerly to his cot, wishing that Thor had drawn the short straw to pick up the sandwiches. He would've had no trouble fighting off a hoard of construction workers while hanging on to his brother.

With any luck, Clint would be complaining by now about the slow sandwich delivery. Maybe Steve would try Tony's cell a few times (it would buzz happily in a police storage container somewhere above his head) and then send Pepper on the hunt for him in the city when he didn't answer.

Ah, Pepper.

This was all her fault. Hers and Loki's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers,  
> BlackSheep


	2. Death By Fury, Round One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fury attempts to control the situation and, by extension, Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all those who have bookmarked this story, given kudos, commented- hell, thanks for reading, period!

By Tony's estimate, it was a somewhere around three in the morning when Nick Fury himself came storming through the hallway outside the cells, policemen in tow, and demanded that Tony be released "right that Goddamn second if you value your jobs."

Tony would've felt rather touched if the man's expression wasn't quite so... furious.

"Stark!" He snapped as Tony hauled himself up from his cot. "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"Gee, it's super to see you, too-"

"I'm not in the mood for jokes," Fury growled. "Hurry up, we haven't got all night. Do you have any idea how many videos of you assaulting that woman have gone viral?" Tony opened his mouth to protest, but the director glared frostily and Tony snapped it shut again, instead following the imposing man back down the hall. "I have a team at the base who can barely keep up with the uploads to terminate, and we still can't keep a lid on it in the papers. No matter how many threats I make, we can't round up all of the pictures. You've stepped in deep shit, Stark. You're lucky that we could even get you out like this; I've been wrestling with NYPD protocols all night. You'd better be worth it."

"You don't understand," Tony interjected despite his sense of self-preservation. "It wasn't a woman at all, it was-"

"Loki. I read the police report." Fury lead them up a flight of stairs and down a narrow hallway that lead to a side alley. A lone officer on a smoke break stared at them openly, eyes darting to the glowing circle in the front of Tony's T-shirt before he returned his attention to his cigarette. Fury lowered his voice as they emerged onto the street and headed for a black, nondescript van. "You said it was Loki, and I believe you. Thor reexplained his brother's powers to the rest of the team, and they believe you. However, when the papers hit the stands tomorrow morning, New York and the rest of the tri-state area is not going to believe you."

Fury held the door to the van open, and when Tony slid into one of the backward-facing seats, he was relieved to see Pepper's tense face sitting across from him. "Hey, Pot-"

"My God, your face!" She screeched, her hands going to her own cheeks. The display reminded him oddly of Loki's charade the previous day.

"That good, eh?" Tony tried to twist around to see himself in the rear-view mirror, but his ribs protested and he settled for the itty-bitty makeup mirror that Pepper offered him. It didn't show him anything unexpected. The worst bruising was around his left eye, a livid black-purple color that suited an eggplant more than it suited his face. The paler bruise on his jaw would have looked better in comparison had it not been marred in the middle by an ugly little scrape that had leaked a small trail of blood down his chin. Tony decided that he didn't really want to see the damage done to his chest.

Fury had seated himself beside Pepper (Tony suspected that this was so he could benefit as much as possible from the man's unrelenting glare) and slammed the door behind him before reaching for the seat belt. Tony thought about leaving his off just to be cheeky, but decided against it. After all he had been though, it would be a terribly stupid way to die.

"Tony," Pepper seemed to have recovered from the initial shock of seeing him, "what on earth were you thinking?"

Tony bristled. Why was everyone treating him like a bad guy? "I was thinking that a major enemy of ours was gathering information that could be used against innocent people. I'm sorry if my trying to stop him offended you, but since I hadn't realized that you and Loki had become such good friends, I-"

"Oh, stop it. You know I'm on your side here, but I just don't understand what was going through your head! You didn't have your suit or any kind of weapon at all! You didn't even have handcuffs, Tony!" Beside her, Fury was nodding along slightly, his features grim. "You're lucky that Loki didn't decide to kill you right then and there!"

"Well, he didn't." Pepper opened her mouth to protest, but Tony steamrolled over her. "Besides, you guys are missing the point- when I saw him, he was looking at blueprints for an apartment complex. As in, future homes of kids and pets and stuff. It occurred to me that rather than whipping out my cell phone and calling Steve or Thor, it would be quicker to try to grab him and subdue him before he could get any ideas."

Fury spoke up. "But that isn't what happened, Stark. If anything, you only gave Loki more reason to lay low and stay out from under our radar."

Tony sat back, arms folded and fists clenched. "I'm sorry, am I being blamed for this? I tried to do the right thing-!"

"Precisely. You tried and you failed."

Tony felt equal parts hot and cold. His bruises and temples throbbed, and he forced himself to breathe deeply. God, he wanted a drink. "I won't defend myself to you."

The director's voice began to rise. "Well, that's too damn bad, because you're going to have to do a lot of defending in the next few weeks."

"Why are we assuming that we can't just tell the press the truth? We're the good guys, right?" Tony's arms were hurting his chest, but he remained rigid.

Fury didn't respond right away, instead reaching into his overcoat (who wore overcoats in late March, anyway?) and pulling out what looked like a Stark Phone. He pressed a few buttons and passed the phone to Tony.

Looking at the photo, Tony's mouth went dry. It showed him, a fierce grimace on his face, closing his arms around a much smaller woman who was unmistakably flailing and struggling against him. Her long hair flew, concealing her face and part of Tony's. Her skirt was ripped in a few places along the hem, and her entire suit was smeared with dust and grime.

He scrolled to the next one, which was worse. He was harshly gripping the woman - Loki, he reminded himself - and there was a satisfied, triumphant tilt to his snarl. He remembered the brief moment of pride as he had gotten a firm hold on the trickster, and cursed inwardly.

The third one made him cringe. The photographer had missed a few seconds of the action. The frame showed Tony's profile as one of the ham-handed construction workers socked him in the jaw, distorting his facial expression into a blur of shock and the beginnings of pain. Tony swallowed his gut reaction and instead zoomed in on the man's hand. As he suspected, there was a little glint-y smudge that had to be a ring on the man's finger. His own fingers twitched as though they wanted to check on the scrape inflicted by the man's jewelry, but Tony contained the reaction. Loki had been reduced to a blurred figure with flying brown hair off to the side of the shot, likely preparing to flee. On the perimeter, the civilians' faces ranged from confusion to surprise to outright rage.

Mutely, he handed back the phone back to Fury. He'd had his fill of pictures, but he seriously doubted that those would be the last ones he would see.

Across from him, Pepper was silent. He could feel her staring at him, and wondered if he would find sadness or disappointment if he looked up. Fury's voice bordered on being downright unkind as he said, "I'd prepare a statement if I were you, Stark. I suspect that you would be best suited to conjure a story on your own, judging from your past with media control, but I would advise you to accept any advice that your team offers you, especially Thor."

Tony frowned at him, crossing his arms again despite the discomfort. "What happened to telling the truth? With Thor's testimony, we would have no problem proving..." He trailed off, staring at the director's stony expression.

"Stark... you can't go around telling people that Loki is a shape shifter. Do you have any idea what kind of panic would ensue? Nobody would trust anybody, and we can't handle that kind of toxic environment; it's exactly what Loki wants. I forbid it."

Pepper winced at the word "forbid," as though she could see Tony's proverbial hackles rising. "Director Fury, I don't think-"

"Let me see if I understand you," Tony broke in, addressing Fury. Pepper's face flushed with anger at the interruption, and Tony knew he was pushing her patience. "You want me to lie though my teeth to protect you and yours with some half-assed story that I 'conjure' up? Stellar plan, only you seem to have forgotten a little something. This isn't just my reputation on the line, it's the Avengers' reputation, something that can't really do with crappy PR right now. You're willing to let the backlash hit us to avoid a few paranoid New Yorkers? Talk about a toxic environment."

Fury looked murderous. "You think I've forgotten? Stark, you really don't have a Goddamn clue what we're dealing with. A minor offense by an Avenger that will be explained - thoroughly - by him while he is backed by his team and his company? That will blow over in a few months. If we reveal that Loki can become anyone he wants, we might as well thrown a few dozen barrels of chum into Florida's beaches. And for once, the press are not the sharks in this metaphor. Trust is already plenty hard to come by in New York. I won't let you make it even scarcer."

Tony stared. "You lost me at the shark thing, but I'm pretty sure that it's still bullshit. Or bullshark..."

"Dammit, Stark!" Pepper jumped at Fury's shout. "You can't imagine the random killings and accidents that will start popping up by the dozens if you shout this to the skies. Grandpa comes home late after an orchestra concert and is shot by his son-in-law, who was sure it was Loki. A cop shoots a hoodlum who made a few snarky, superior remarks that reminded him of Loki. A neighborhood gang beats the crazy, old, homeless man to death because they heard him talking to himself thought it was Loki, casting a spell on them. And that's not even counting the thousands of minor assaults, or the wild goose chases that the police will be sent on by protective mothers and other concerned citizens who will swear up and down that a fellow human being is Loki. Chaos, Stark, that's what you're threatening me with, and it's exactly what Loki knows best. Believe me."

The van slowed and came to a stop, the brakes seeming loud in the silence that followed Fury's outburst. He sighed, seeming to realize his loss of volume control, and rubbed his face with one hand. "I'll still schedule a press conference for you," he began more quietly. "But Stark, you've got to keep your mouth shut."

Tony recoiled slightly, his glare returning full force. Director Fury could have said "Please, Stark," or "Will you take that into consideration, Stark?" or even "Trust me, Stark" (not that Tony would've). But no.

Keep your mouth shut.

It vaguely reminded Tony of his father.

"We'll see." he said quietly. Dangerously.

Fury jerked back at the tone, his eye narrowing. Pepper, who had been looking drained and a little frightened a moment before, shook her head with a snort of disgust as she opened the door nearest her. Tony followed after leveling Fury with one last glare. He was sure the Director's answering scowl was superior, but he didn't care.

They had arrived at the Mansion. It surprised Tony that he was taken here and not to the Stark office building, but, then again, the Mansion was his official home now.

He strode forward without a word to Pepper, though he sensed that she was itching to rip into him about what had transpired during the day and during the car ride. He wasn't in the mood to deal with getting yelled at and spat on all over again. Instead, he lengthened his stride to make it to the door before her and let himself in, slamming it behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up later on today! I'm not picky about when, and I can be persuaded by comments and kudos if need be... ;)
> 
> Cheers,  
> BlackSheep


	3. Hidden Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony seals himself in his lab. After all, Pepper's still trying to yell at him.

The estate used to belong to the Stark family, so it was fitting that Tony was able to disappear into one of the side corridors to try to avoid coming face-to-face with one of his teammates (and to keep Pepper off his trail).

S.H.I.E.L.D. had suggested that he utilize it as a, quote, "mutual gathering site to serve as a temporary home for any and all Avengers that are in need of shelter." In short, a place to crash. Tony wasn't sure if Fury had intended it to be the team's full-time home, but it had rather turned out that way.

Without a Tesseract to guard, Clint had been the first one to set up camp. He happily occupied much of the third floor, which contained long hallways that he used for target practice (not that he needed the practice, in Tony's opinion) until the construction on his official shooting range in the subterranean floors was complete.

Natasha had followed, insisting that she would only stay through the duration of the reconstruction of New York. Although the construction was, admittedly, ongoing (sites like the one Tony had crossed were all too common these days), she showed no sign of leaving. Quite the opposite, if her furniture-shopping was anything to go by.

Upon first hearing the idea, the Captain had been more openly hesitant than the rest, stating that he would prefer his own living space. This was before he had learned that his "own living space" had been destroyed by one of the flying metal behemoths. He had then accepted with a tight jaw and weary eyes.

Bruce had been the only real exception. Although he had bunked with them in the beginning, an incident involving an exploding toaster (Tony had wondered where it had gone) convinced him that he was better off on his own. Tony was loathe to let an intellectual (almost) equal of his drop off the map, and had promised to get to work reinforcing the walls and internal structure of the Mansion so that Banner could stay there more permanently later on. In the meantime, the doctor had agreed to stay in the Mansion whenever he was in New York and to keep them up to date on where he would be so that they could call on him whenever something important arose.

Somehow, Thor's situation was more complicated.

He was absent for several weeks during the initial clean-up of Manhattan, presumably dealing with Loki on Asgard. However, upon his unexpectedly soon return, he confessed that there had been less "dealing with Loki" and more "searching frantically for Loki after he escaped from his thrice-reinforced, magical cell." (When Clint had asked if Thor had fallen for Loki's incorporeal trick again, Thor had snapped that no, he certainly had not, despite the angry and embarrassed blush that covered his cheeks.) After his arrival, he had ended up helping out on street-clearing duty, and - of course - crashing at the Mansion. (This one was less of a surprise to Tony - after all, where else would the big guy stay?)

Tony's thoughts were interrupted as he ran smack into a big, broad chest. He stepped back to steady himself, wincing as he brought one hand up to his own bruised torso. Speak of the thunder god...

"Tony! I apologize, my friend." Thor looked down at him, visibly contrite. He had donned the clothes he wore for relaxing: a XXL T-shirt that was still pulled taut over the muscles in his chest and arms and a set of miraculously loose-fitting jeans.

Tony forced a smile, though it pulled at the bruises. "Don't worry about it. It was mostly my fault, I was just... thinking." Tony cocked his head to one side, peering beyond Thor and into the dim hallway. "How'd you end up in this part of the Mansion?"

"I was similarly preoccupied, and had embarked on a walk to ease my mind. My footsteps lead me here." His welcoming smile turned grim. "I have heard of Loki's treacherous acts towards you, and I apologize once more on his behalf."

Tony snorted despite himself, and moved to pass Thor. "I appreciate it, but I doubt that Loki is very sorry."

Thor put a firm hand on Tony's shoulder, stopping his progress and forcing him to meet his blue gaze. "You will not have to face the coming storm alone, Tony. I shall not allow my brother to tarnish your name with his trickery; I will defend your honor to the best of my ability. What is more, I am certain that our fellow Avengers will act similarly." Thor nodded somberly to emphasize how serious he was.

A more genuine smile tugged at the edges of Tony's mouth. "Thanks, Thor. You won't have much opportunity to defend me tonight, though, so you'd better get some rest."

The larger man nodded and murmured his assent before clapping Tony on the back once more and heading off down the hall.

After a moment of warring with his pride, Tony spoke up again. "Er... Thor?" The god turned. "In the morning, do you think you could help me develop the story for the press?"

Thor nodded again; his smile was not quite as broad as Tony had come to expect, but it was still reassuring. "Do not fear, Tony. We shall reveal my evil brother's mischief for what it truly is." With a final, grimmer smile, Thor turned and headed down the hall, towards his chambers.

Tony didn't have the heart to correct him; instead, he yawned heartily and continued on his way to the lab. There was a cot down there, and while he could use an honest bed, it was nearly impossible to get upstairs to his actual room without crossing paths with his teammates. In the meantime, he just wanted to rest. He needed to rest. Because if he didn't, his thoughts would end up chasing themselves in circles and he would lose focus entirely. And that was probably what Loki wanted.

Loki. This whole mess was his fault. Tony could feel his fists clenching at his sides. The little bastard was probably having a good laugh right about now from wherever he had holed up.

Loki had returned shortly after Thor, creating a crater in Central Park and causing the resident Thunder God to go on a rabid search expedition throughout most of New York. Eventually, the public disturbance complaints filed against him (the guy was anything but stealthy) became too numerous to ignore, and he was asked to stop his constant hunt. Thor had remained sullen for days, only emerging from his room to help with debris removal. Loki, meanwhile, had been keeping a low profile. Thor had supposed that his brother had used a terrific amount of magic in order to transport himself to Midgard without the aid of the Tesseract, and was keeping a low profile until his magic was replenished.

Which it obviously was, Tony thought, remembering the sudden transformation. The memory of the god smirking at him from the street corner rose to his mind's eye, and he scowled once more; Loki had played him like a Pac-Man machine.

Tony found himself at the door to the basement sooner than he expected. It was entirely old-fashioned looking except for the knob, which had been taken out entirely. Instead, there was a panel, no larger than two inches on each side, which showed a digital number pad. As Tony touched the numbers of his code, it scanned his fingerprints and swung forward to admit him.

 _Welcome home, Sir_ , the familiar voice said as Tony descended the stairs (there was an elevator, but it was a central fixture in the Mansion, and therefore would make it more difficult to avoid his team. And Pepper.). _Is there anything I can do for you?_

"Med kit would be nice, JARVIS."

_Of course, Sir. I have already placed it at your bedside._

Tony nodded to himself as he made his way through his workroom, thinking about Nick Fury and Thor and Loki. (Mostly Loki.) He sighed heavily, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get to sleep without knowing the damage thus far.

"JARVIS, pull up any of today's news reports that mention me or Loki."

 _Certainly._ There was a brief pause before the projections above his main desk came to life. There were only three primary panels, each one about him; Fury had done a good job keeping it contained. Tony approached the desk after grabbing the medicine kit from the floor by his bed.

_Shall I call Ms. Potts to assist you, Sir?_

"That won't be necessary, JARVIS."

_Sir, it is not advisable to treat any cracked bones or other internal injuries on your own-_

"I've recently realized that I'm not great at taking advice." Tony opened the first media folder. It was a clip from the late-night news.

_Only recently, Sir?_

"You're hilarious, JARVIS." Tony pressed play on the video and opened the kit, looking for cold packs. He was sure that they had a couple that reacted and became cold when shaken or cracked or something, like a glow-stick. Sure enough, he found one beneath the splints, bashed it against the desk to jump-start the reaction. He pressed it to the side of his face, listening to the reporter's voice as he did his best to soak up the cold.

"...and here's a shocking story for gossip columnists and crime lovers alike: earlier today, Tony Stark, the famous 'Iron Man', was arrested for the assault of a mystery woman on Fifth Avenue. Eyewitnesses state that he tackled the young woman to the ground and then tried to keep her from running away from him, causing her to scream for help. He was taken into custody immediately, as an NYPD officer witnessed the events. The internet has begun to buzz about Mr. Stark's motive for attacking the young woman, with speculation varying from temporary insanity to a sinister plot. Because the woman vanished from the scene, some of Mr. Stark's more steadfast supporters have suggested that she was involved in criminal activity, and have stated that Mr. Stark's arrest should be overturned until the woman's testament can be obtained. However, bystanders stick firmly to their stories. We expect that Tony Stark will be out on bail within a day or so, and will then make a statement regarding his actions."

The clip ended, and Tony sat back in his chair, wondering if his "steadfast supporters" were actually S.H.I.E.L.D. agents trying to make him look good. Whatever the case may be, at least New York thought there was someone sticking up for him. He eyed the other two media files, but couldn't bring himself to play them. Instead, he went for the smaller band-aid box in the med kit, using the kit's reflective lid as a mirror so that he could place the gauzy bit over the cut on his chin.

Afterwards, he forced himself to pull the hem of his T-shirt up to his chin to assess the damage to his chest (he hadn't been able to muster the courage to look at it during his time in the jail).

He swallowed. It didn't hurt that badly at the moment, but it looked like he had been trampled by elephants. Or rhinos. Whichever breed was more aggressive.

_Sir... I believe that now would be the time to call Ms.-_

"Mute," He muttered, moving his fingers gingerly over the bruises, not quite touching them. The biggest of the two blots had barely missed the arc reactor, where Tony had been kneed by one of the angrier men (were they on steroids or something? Jeez...), and though the smaller one wasn't quite so purple, it had ugly red blotches that made him cringe. Tony knew that he needed to prod the skin to feel for cracked ribs or swelling, but, unsurprisingly, he wasn't too keen to do so.

"Unmute. JARVIS, what are the odds of internal injuries for bruises like these?"

_You should know this by now, Sir._

"Don't be mad at me for putting you on silent; I was just trying to focus."

_I would truly prefer calling Ms. Potts to assessing your injuries based on previously gathered data. It would only take a moment, Sir, seeing as she has been trying to enter for the past few minutes._

Tony glanced up from his chest, eyes darting warily to the door. "And you didn't tell me?"

_I was rather mute at the time._

"Oh. Well, don't let her in. She'll yell at me."

_Yes, it is rather likely that she will._

"Would it be possible for you to scan my chest?" The more Tony looked at the bruises, the more he didn't want to aggravate them.

_Possible, yes, but not advisable. Although we have been constantly improving the software and machinery at the Mansion, we do not yet possess an X-ray machine. We would have to make due with our ordinary scanner, which would only be able to penetrate a few layers of skin or muscle-_

"But could you try?"

_...Of course, Sir. I shall need you to stand in the center of the room._

Tony stood, grimacing as the workshop's walls wiggled ominously. He should really get to bed, but his mind was moving too quickly at the moment to accommodate his body's need for rest.

_Hold still, Sir._

"Don't I always?" Tony grumbled, holding his arms out to either side as the lights dimmed and JARVIS allowed the scanners to sweep once, twice over Tony's torso. A moment later, a life-sized virtual model appeared over Tony's desk, replacing the news reports. The bruises were represented with splotches of yellow and the occasional bit of orange. "Well?"

_It would appear that you were lucky, Sir. The scan did not pick up any serious bone breaks or internal bleeding. Still, it could very well have missed any hairline fractures or other small but serious injuries beyond its detecting capabilities. I recommend that you have a proper X-ray after resting._

"We'll see, JARVIS." A yawn caught Tony by surprise. He blinked a few times afterwards, and, upon realizing that he had to struggle to re-open his eyes, decided to give up on staying awake and researching. He made his way to the bed and eased himself onto the cot, calling, "Wake me by eleven, won't you?"

_Of course, Sir._

Tony stared up at the ceiling as the lights dimmed and went out, leaving the glowing of the arc reactor and his numerous inventions. As he had suspected, his mind continued to fly even as his eyelids drooped. Voices overlapped in his head, imagined and remembered and numbing.  
____________________________________________

_Keep your mouth shut._

_My God, your face!_

_... brain is a bag full of cats._

_He is my brother._

_... mouth shut._

_He won't let me go, HELP!_

_... killed eighty people in two days._

_Get off her!_

_... we shall reveal my evil brother's mischief..._

_What have I to fear?_

_...my evil brother's mischief..._

_It burns you to have come so close._

_... my evil brother..._

"Sir?"

 _... my evil brother ..._  
____________________________________

_"Sir!"_

Tony jolted awake with a curse, his heart trying to escape his chest as he fought to regain his breath and bearings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having some problems with italics. Let me know if you notice any errors.
> 
> Cheers,  
> BlackSheep


	4. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers try to figure out how to proceed after the incident.

_Sir!_

Tony sat bolt upright, gasping and sweating. Around him, the lights of his work space flipped on smoothly, but it did nothing to ease the chills that wracked his frame. He pushed his drenched hair out of his face, grimacing as his hand grazed the bruises.

_I apologize for the unorthodox awakening._

"S'okay, JARVIS." Tony said thickly. His mouth tasted vile and felt fuzzy, as though he had been unusually drunk the night before (if only...).

_Director Fury dropped off the information for your press conference in addition to your personal belongings that were confiscated by the police, including your watch and phone. I believe you have twenty-four missed calls from Ms. Potts._

"Fantastic," Tony grumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and picking sleep out of his eyes. "What time is it?"

_Twenty minutes after ten, Sir. I realize that you had requested to sleep until eleven, but Director Fury was adamant that you be awakened sooner to expedite the creation of your cover story._

"Old Saint Nick? Tell him he can bite me."

_I would advise against that, Sir._

"Yeah, yeah... Is the shower down here functional yet?" Tony stood, too aware of the drying crust of sweat that covered most of his body.

_Regrettably not, Sir. Shall I fetch the elevator?_

"That would be wonderful." Tony mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His heart was still racing. He had never been much good at remembering his dreams, but when he strained, he remembered snatches of voices- each had seemed familiar, somehow - yet even as he struggled to pin them down, the mechanical whir of the elevator doors brought him back to reality.

_Sir, the lift has-_

"Thanks, I see." Tony stood, rolling his shoulders and walking carefully to the elevator. It seemed that today would be one of those days. The days where he re-learned how many of his (damaged) muscles were involved in simple motions like walking, reaching, lifting, sitting. Even stretching his arm forward to press the button on the elevator was enough to make him cringe at the sudden, blooming pain in his chest.

_It would seem that your injuries have stiffened considerably during the night._

"You're not wrong." Tony leaned against the wall of the elevator, resisting the urge to close his eyes and take a cat-nap during the ride. The doors opened too soon, and with too many people on the other side.

Well, one person too many.

"Shit!" Clint barked in surprise upon seeing Tony. Eyes wide, he stepped forward, examining his friend's face. "Did they arrest the jackass who did that?"

"Jackasses, and no, not that I'm aware of." Tony glanced around- they were only on the first floor. "Look, I'd really hate to run into Pepper, so could you-?"

"Yeah, man. You go, I'll hold her off." Clint moved back a few paces, and Tony smiled gratefully. Clint had grown on him in the months since their initial meeting. The archer's affinity for alcohol and his wicked, often scandalous wit had made him an ideal candidate for a friend, and his frequent willingness to help Tony hide from Pepper only sweetened the deal.

The doors closed, and Tony sagged against the wall once more. He was grateful that Clint hadn't asked him immediately about the events at the construction site, though he knew the other man was probably itching to know the details.

On the second floor, he hurried as much as he could to the section of rooms that served as his private quarters. The team had divvied up the house with reasonable equality- Captain had the private half of the first floor to himself whenever Bruce was away, while Tony and Thor bunked on the second floor. Although Clint claimed to be king of the topmost floor, Natasha's rooms occupied a decent chunk of the space.

Tony hoped to be fortunate enough to avoid Thor altogether, but to no avail:

"Tony!"

And just outside Tony's own door, too ( _So close..._ ). He turned, his offered smile faltering when Thor made a noise of surprise.

"My friend, your bruises did not appear so terrible last night!"

Tony frowned, lifting a hand to his face. "What, have they gone yellow already or something?"

Thor's eyes were wider than Clint's for a moment before he seemed to calm himself a bit. "Not at all. I suppose the lighting in the downstairs hallway was simply poorer than that of this one."

Tony blinked up at the overly-bright fluorescent bulbs for a moment. "True... these are kind of in-your-face, huh?"

"Yes, that must be the reason." Thor's gaze never left Tony's face. "I must apologize once more on behalf of my brother-"

"Thor, don't worry about it. Seriously. You're being a massive help with this pain-in-the-ass press conference, and there's really no need for you to feel guilty over your brother."

Thor nodded slowly, his face contemplative. "I realize that I had no direct involvement, Tony, but it still pains me to think of my brother behaving so, especially towards you or another member of our team. He has truly shamed our family with his horrendous acts."

Though he nodded along, Tony wondered internally if Thor was feeling alright. The big guy never talked about his brother in a way that wasn't either sad or frustrated; sometimes he even bordered on affectionate. But this way of speaking, this bitterness in his voice wasn't something Tony had ever heard before. Tony almost asked if he was okay, but since he obviously wasn't, he decided against it (What? He _really_ needed to shower!). Still, he stretched a hand up to Thor's shoulder (straining his ribs, might he add), and said to Thor's surprised face, "It'll get better, okay? With the press and with Loki."

He smiled once more at Thor, who looked like he didn't know whether or not to hug Tony. The billionaire dissuaded this idea by stepping back and putting his hand on the print-scanner beside his door. "See you downstairs? You did say you would help me with the conference."

"Yes, of course! It would please me greatly to assist you." Thor's broadest grin was back, and Tony tried his hardest to ignore the throbbing at his chin when he returned it to the best of his ability.

Then he was closing the door behind him and sinking against it, head throbbing spectacularly and muscles aching as well. He sighed heavily. At least he had made it up there without Pepper catching/yelling at him.

"JARVIS? Start the shower, please."

_Certainly, Sir._

As the spray sounded in the bathroom, Tony engaged in his tradition of walking through the enormous first room to the bathroom, shucking his clothes as he went (although, it was admittedly a little slower than usual, considering the bruises than restricted his movements).

The smelly, sweat-caked shirt landed on the ebony coffee table; the socks plopped onto the leather lounge chair by the fireplace (as opposed to _in_ the fireplace, which was a different, more entertaining story); his jeans managed to catch on the top of the long-necked lamp, making it sway forbiddingly before stilling.

(Yes, that was it. Honestly, who wore underwear anymore?)

The display was considerably more impressive in winter, when he had coats and gloves and clunky boots and, you know, wasn't swearing loudly whenever he strained his muscle-aches.

_I advise that you make haste, Sir. Ms. Potts has just now arrived, and I believe she is not above forcing her way into your shower._

"Wonderful," Tony grumbled, walking straight into the shower. "JARVIS, could you tell me everything you can about what the media has been saying- ouch! - and ease up on the water pressure!" Tony shielded his chest from the beating spray (just how he liked it - usually) with one of his hands.

_Already done, Sir. As for the media..._

As Tony showered, he listened with a sinking heart to what JARVIS told him. Although Fury had done major damage-control with the video and pictures, there were still grainy shots of him and the woman ( _Loki_ , he reminded himself) that had made it into most of the papers. Many had scornful quotes from the witnesses and workers. Only one supported him, saying that the abrupt arrest without testimony was terribly rushed, and that the men who had beaten Tony should come forward and receive punishment. However, Tony was pretty sure that the supporting paper was controlled and/or owned by S.H.I.E.L.D.

Tony's mind was muddled as he turned off the water and began his post-shower routine. Most of his thoughts revolved around Loki (was the building in danger? Should construction be postponed? How the hell was Tony going to find him now?), while another portion revolved around Fury's warning (being blamed for mass panic was never fun, nor was getting his ass kicked by the director), and the tiniest portion of his mental capacity strained to remember his dream (there was something he needed to remember, something important, something subtle).

It was therefore understandable that by the time Tony managed to get himself (almost) properly dressed and downstairs, there was a hoard of people waiting for him in the kitchen.

" _Anthony Edward Stark!_ "

Needless to say, some faces were more welcoming than others.

"Pepper..." Tony stepped forward, hands raised to placate her. "Let me just-"

" _No!_ " Pepper was livid, and had probably been so all night. Tony hadn't seen her like this since... well, yesterday. "For God's _sake_ , Tony, disappearing last night was _childish_ , and _rude_ , and _uncalled-for_ , and-"

"Ms. Potts." For once, Fury's voice was a welcome distraction. Pepper's ponytail whipped as her head jerked towards the director. "It's not that I don't agree with you on every count, but we have limited time. Yell later."

Pepper looked like she wanted to protest (and possibly resort to violence), but she took a deep breath and backed off, arms crossed tightly.

Tony moved towards the living area, where the whole team (save for Bruce) had gathered. The main area of the first floor consisted of one massive room that included a full kitchen on one half and a gigantic living area across the room, complete with a massive flat-screen and a plethora of leather couches and corduroy armchairs.

The team had collectively collapsed into the cushy furniture to wait for him (although "collapsed" was a significant stretch when describing Fury, who was standing ramrod-straight in front of the TV). Hawkeye and Black Widow had claimed the two loungers beside the L-shaped couch where Thor and the Captain sat. There was a terrific difference in the postures of the latter pair; Steve sat up straight, waiting attentively for orders or an "at ease, soldier," while Thor's massive frame had sprawled across a significant portion of the black leather. Tony couldn't help but wonder if their positions shouldn't be reversed- it wasn't in the Captain's nature, sure, but hadn't Thor been distraught just a half-hour or so ago?

Tony pushed the thought from his head, instead moving to sit at Thor's feet in the middle of the "L." Pepper remained upright, opting to stand by Fury.

"Alright," The director ground out. "The conference is in two hours. Let's snap to it. Stark? Any bright ideas so far?"

Tony tried his hardest not to glower at the other man. He almost succeeded. "Well, obviously Loki won't come forward in pretending to be a woman. We should take full advantage of that since, y'know, we're not actually telling the press that it _was_ Loki..."

Clint rocked forward in his chair. "The hell do you mean, not telling the press?" Everyone else except Pepper and Fury were looking similarly bemused. Thor sat up slightly, one brow raised.

Tony spoke before Fury could. "Our friendly neighborhood director over there doesn't think it's a great idea to go around telling people that Loki can become whoever he wants."

"It would create panic. We've already established that. Move on, Stark."

Tony wondered if the director's default setting was "Thunderous." It certainly seemed like it. "Like I said, we can BS all we want since Loki won't be coming forward. We could even say that she was working for Loki, or that he had tricked her into it."

Captain America broke in, "But we're assuming, and we should have learned by now that it's a bad idea to assume anything when Loki is involved. What if he does appear again? Thor- is there any way to force Loki into his natural form? A trigger of some kind?"

Thor tilted his head and furrowed his brow. "Such a method surely exists, though I have no knowledge of it. I was never captivated by the study of magic as my brother was."

"Well, let's hope he stays out of our hair," Clint grumbled, reaching for a mug of coffee on one of the end tables.

"But will he?" Natasha spoke. "He's finally resurfaced after months of sneaking around out of sight. Maybe he's preparing to try something big."

"He was looking at a blueprint for the apartment complex a few blocks away on Sixth," Tony offered. He hoped that they would decide to look into the building; he thought about Loki sticking a bomb somewhere inside the structure like some sick time-capsule and stifled a shudder.

"But that's not what we're discussing at present," Fury interrupted the discussion. There was tension in his jaw and voice alike. "We're here to keep Stark from getting slaughtered by the press any more than he already has."

"Hold on a second." Clint sat up straight in his chair, frowning. "I want to know why the officer arrested Tony without batting an eye, but didn't bother cuffing the paint-huffing buffoons that got violent. I mean," he raised his hands to halt the immediate responses. "If it had been me, I'd be seriously pissed that they got off without so much as a smack on the backs of their hands."

"We'll chat about that later, Barton. We have more imminent concerns right now." Fury's glare left no room for opposition.

"I doubt that Tony's face feels the same way," he muttered, but leaned back all the same. Tony shot him a grin, and the archer responded with a shrug and an eye-roll.

The Captain piped up again. "Let's go through this step by step. If Tony tells it like a story, then presumably he'll start with seeing something suspicious, like this 'woman' sabotaging part of the site or something similar. Right?"

There were a few hesitant nods, but Tony tipped his head back and groaned. "I hate lying to the press. It never goes well."

"You just think that because you outed yourself as Iron Man the last time it was this important," Pepper muttered.

"That's only part of it." Tony grumbled. He could hear Clint snickering quietly. Traitor.

"Well, get over it, Stark." Natasha reclined lazily, looking a bit bored. "Something that might work a little more smoothly than an outright lie would be-"

The sound of the front door slamming reverberated throughout the room. Everyone's heads turned simultaneously towards the noise. Beside Tony, Thor's legs twitched. Tony sat up and did a head count. Aside from Dr. Banner, they were all accounted for.

"Bruce?" He called, twisting around despite his protesting ribs to peer into the hallway that lead to the entrance hall. The heavy footsteps were even more confusing - Bruce walked like a pixy when he wasn't all green and huge.

With his mind following this train of thought, it was even more shocking when the booming voice preceded the large figure into the kitchen. "My friends, I have searched for Loki for endless hours but have been unable to locate-"

Tony leaped up with a shout as Thor came into view in full armor, Mjölnir in hand, still speaking loudly.

The whole room went deadly still as the battle-ready Thor locked eyes with his reclining counterpart on the couch. After a moment, a grin slipped across the face of the latter.

"Not that I don't love horribly awkward silences, but I believe I shall take my leave of you all." Blue eyes were melting into green as they met Tony's. "Heal swiftly, Man of Iron."

The two bullets and the arrow only penetrated the couch and a wisp of green smoke. As Natasha and Fury lowered their Glocks and Clint let his bow rest on his lap, all eyes were on the two fresh holes and the arrow sticking out of the armrest where Loki's head had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers,  
> BlackSheep


	5. Reeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team tries to deal with Loki's appearance, and Tony gets distracted by an unusual offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just issue an all-encompassing warning for swearing, alcohol, and non-graphic violence.
> 
> Onward!

Tony thought he might pass out. The room spun and his empty stomach roiled. "That- that... Thor was... Loki was...?"

He stared around the room, but no one seemed to have answers. Natasha wore a grim expression while Clint looked shocked and angry. Their hands remained on their weapons as though they expected Loki to come bounding through the wall of windows that lead to the backyard. Pepper had acquired that horrible paleness that usually accompanied horrific events (Tony supposed that this counted). At her side, Fury's shell of controlled anger had fractured slightly, leaving a dangerous gleam in his eye and a set of tight knuckles on the handle of his gun. Likewise, the Captain was gripping the seat cushion almost hard enough to rip the leather, and his eyes were wild.

Thor was the worst, though.

Even from across the room, Tony could see the naked pain and confusion in his blue eyes, the anguish and anger warring for control. Without a word to the others, he spun around and stalked back into the dimmer hallway. No one called after him- shaken though they were, they still knew better than to go after Thor when he didn't want company.

A short, terse sigh made Tony turn. Fury was rubbing his forehead with the hand that held his gun, looking as though he was internally reminding himself that there was nothing left for him to shoot. "I need to get to headquarters and get people on this. We'll send you note cards for the conference, Stark; just show up in a suit and some reading glasses and try not to fuck up."

Tony bit his tongue as Fury passed him in a whirl of overcoat. He knew better than to protest when that man had a gun in his hand (but seriously, _reading glasses?_ ).

It wasn't until the front door slammed that Tony finally staggered to the couch, excess adrenaline making him nauseous and restless all at once.

"What the fuck are we supposed to do now?" Clint muttered.

No one had an answer. Tony was cradling his head and rubbing his temples, trying to think. When he lowered his hands, he caught his fingers trembling.

"Did Thor say all night? He said 'searching for hours,' but does that mean all night?" Natasha was trying to be rational. Tony appreciated it.

"Hell if I know. Ask him yourself," Clint's tone was hostile, but his eyes were bordering on panic.

Pepper and Steve stayed silent, processing internally. Everyone was having a freak-out in his or her own way, it seemed.

Tony suddenly sat up straight, feeling equal parts brilliant and stupid. "Thor wasn't here at all last night. I ran into him- into _Loki_ \- on my way to the workshop. I should've known that something was off... Thor never goes into that part of the Mansion. And he said... said _something..._ " Tony squinted at the carpet, aware of everyone's gazes on the back of his head. "Something about Loki being evil. I should've known right then and there... Thor would never call Loki _evil_."

"At four AM? We all say stupid shit at four in the fucking morning. Why would you notice something like that?" Clint stood suddenly and headed out of Tony's line of sight, towards the kitchen. When he reappeared, he was carrying a bottle of scotch from the cabinet and a few glasses. Nobody spoke as he poured, though Natasha muttered something about vodka when she accepted hers. Tony downed his in one go and slammed it back down onto the coffee table, eyes watering a little. It had been a generous glass.

Even as he went at his second one, Pepper didn't chastise him about drinking two hours before a press conference. She seemed to have realized that arguing would be pointless, and instead reached for one of the spare glasses (though she sipped instead of Tony's preferred gulping).

Only the Captain abstained. "What-" his voice cracked, and he coughed. "What if Loki left something behind? Some sort of explosives, or-?"

"JARVIS?" Tony called.

_Already scanning, Sir._

It took a few tense moments for the search to finish (it was a _Mansion_ , okay?), but JARVIS's voice came back quickly enough. _Scans are not picking up any malignant or unusual items_.

"Yeah, well, did the scans pick up any malignant or unusual people at all last night?" Steve snapped. Already on his third, Tony glanced over at the Captain. His skin was shining with sweat and almost as pale as Pepper's.

 _Not at all_.

"Nothing? No footage of a Thor-clone sabotaging our gas mains or setting up bear traps in the hallways?"

_Mr. Stark had all of Director Fury's monitoring devices thrown into the Hudson River. We have no other internal monitoring systems._

Steve's head whipped around and pinned Tony with an accusing stare. "No surveillance equipment? What were you-?"

"No _internal_ surveillance equipment. I didn't think that anyone would appreciate being recorded while they were eating or showering." Tony's voice was scathing, and he took a swig of scotch to ease the fear and anger pulsing beneath his skin. "Besides, if JARVIS says this place is clean, then it's clean."

"Still," Clint reached for the bottle again, his jaw tight, "I'm sleeping with my bow under my pillow tonight."

"You sleep with your bow under your pillow every night," Natasha muttered.

Clint glowered at her. "My point still stands."

Tony almost snorted, but then he wondered how on earth _he_ was going to be able to fall asleep that night. What could he do against a man who could become anyone? What face would he program JARVIS to target? His heart gave a worried little pang in his chest, and Tony tossed back the rest of his glass.

The Captain's eyes were on him as Tony held out his hand to accept the quickly emptying bottle from Clint. "Should you be drinking like that on an empty stomach?"

"Don't tell me when I'm allowed to drink, Cappy." To emphasize this, Tony poured himself more than was strictly necessary.

Pepper stood shakily, her face having regained a little color. "No, Steve's right. But since you're obviously not parting with the alcohol this morning-" (she sipped a bit more from her own glass as though saying, _and neither am I_ ) "-I'll make toast."

"A toast! I love toasts." Tony raised his glass. "What are we toasting?"

"Bread," Pepper called derisively from the kitchen.

"Oh, that's no fun." Tony let his drink fall. "And unless somebody went out last night, we're still out of food," Tony reminded her loudly.

"I did," Steve said, "Before we figured out what had happened to you."

Tony peered at him over the edge of his glass. The alcohol's burn was like a balm on his raw nerves. "Did you happen to pick up any Loki-repellent? It seems that we're all out."

"Really? This again?" Steve let out an irritated breath and stood, running his hands through his hair. "Remind me again, Stark, what does joking accomplish?"

"For one, it gives your face that lovely tomato-tint."

Steve appeared to be doing his best to keep from throttling Tony; his nostrils flared, and he took a deep breath before speaking. "This is _serious._ Loki was in our house, on our _couch_ , and you're acting like nothing has happened. How can you joke when we're facing a security breach that could have been lethal?"

Tony's raised an eyebrow. "But we're all still alive, and therefore still able to get drunk off our asses. It's not like Loki's coming back anytime soon. We'll figure out what to do once the adrenaline wears off." He paused and raised a cautionary finger. "Unless your plan involves cameras in my shower, because Fury already tried that, and it was more than creepy enough then."

The Captain let out an angry huff of air. "I can't deal with you right now, not while you're like this. I'll talk to you when you're sober." He took one step towards the elevator and stopped, turning back to Tony. "Try not to mess up the conference any more than you have to."

Tony, Clint, and Natasha watched him go. As the elevator doors opened to admit the Captain, Clint mumbled something along the lines of "star-spangled buzzkill diva" into his drink.

"He's right, though." Tony and Clint's heads whipped around to stare at Natasha, who shrugged, unaffected. "I'm not saying that we shouldn't be drinking in times of great stress-" she raised her glass, "-I used to be Russian, remember? Plus, by now, I know that no amount of sobering up will cure Stark of his jackassery. I'm just saying that this situation is way out of hand, and we should be brainstorming while we get as inebriated as we possibly can."

"Except for Tony," Pepper interjected, leaning over the back of the couch to hand Tony a plate of toast, "who will only get drunk enough to keep himself calm during the conference. Now eat, or I'll force-feed you."

"Such ugly words," Tony groused, though a grateful light surfaced in his eyes.

"I don't want you throwing up on that woman from Vanity Fair. She hates you enough already."

"It would improve her looks, though." Tony joked before biting into the bread. He nearly choked at the temperature and dryness. "No butter?"

"Get it yourself. I'm not your servant." Pepper's footsteps moved back towards the kitchen.

"But I'm injured," Tony pretended to pout. " _Ouch!_ "

He brought up a hand to prod the back of his head before groping for the fresh stick of butter that had fallen beside him. It seemed that Pepper's throwing arm had improved. Clint was laughing heartily, sloshing a bit of his drink onto the knee of his pants, and Natasha was smirking at him. Tony peeled the wax paper away from the butter- after being in the refrigerator, it was awfully rock-like in density.

"Thanks," he said dryly. "I'll get the knife myself, shall I?"

"You could use one of mine," Natasha offered slyly. Alcohol made her cocky, and adrenaline made her restless; Tony had the abrupt wish that he was closer to his armor.

Clint snorted. "Now _there's_ a bad idea."

"And unnecessary," Pepper said, dropping a butter knife onto the cushion beside Tony. "Be ready to leave at twelve-fifteen, okay? They'll want to do a sound check before the conference."

Tony tilted his head to glimpse the clock behind him. "But... it's already twelve..."

"You'd better get dressed, then," She suggested. Tony couldn't quite see her where she stood behind him, but he had a feeling that she was wearing one of those self-satisfied grins of hers. Tony began pressing bits of butter onto the bread with a bit more force than necessary. Although he was glad that she was recovering from the shock of Loki's infiltration, he wished that she would go elsewhere to be smug. It was irritating.

"Fine, but I'm taking my drink."

"Take the bread. I'll hold on to your drink for you."

"Ha! Fat chance." Tony jerked his glass out of the way of her questing hands, nearly spilling a few precious drops on the carpet. The toast slid ominously on the plate as he stood and danced his way to the elevator. "I'll be down at... what was it? Half past?"

"Tony..."

"Fine, fine, quarter past. Lighten up, would you?" Tony shot her a final smile before the doors closed between them.

____________________

Tony was mostly done getting dressed (his cuff-links were giving his still-shaky fingers a tough time) when he noticed the book.

It sat innocently on his pillow as though it was waiting for Tony to sit down and read someone a bedtime story. Something about it reminded Tony of those guest-books that are found at rental cabins or small inns- the likeness was intensified by the delicate fountain pen that sat innocuously on the other pillow. The book itself was only a half-inch thick, and its cover was broad and clean and plain white, save for two little words embossed in gold. Something Pepper had left him, perhaps?

Tony moved closer, peering at the title.

_The Game_

Realization struck, and Tony's blood chilled and thickened in his veins.

Loki.

Loki had been here.

Here, in Tony's _room._

His stomach dipped and rolled, and he struggled to keep his alcohol down as he moved forward to touch the book. It was bound and covered in a white cloth that was smooth beneath his fingers.

"JARVIS- has anyone entered my room through the door?"

_No, Sir. Is something the matter?_

"Just... monitor this room carefully. Especially while I'm asleep. Wake me if so much as a dust speck lands wrong on the carpet."

_... I will do my best, Sir._

Curiosity gnawed at his fingertips, and before he could think better of it, Tony had plucked the book from the pillow and opened it to the first page. There was more writing in thin, elegant gold script; a single sentence in the center of the page.

_Rule One: Reveal the Book of the Game to no one's eyes but your own._

Tony frowned at the page, re-reading the line. He wasn't supposed to show it to anyone? Like hell he wouldn't.

He turned the page to find an identical format.

_Rule Two: Any meetings, truces, or exchanges will follow the Laws of Juncture._

The Laws of _what?_ Tony found himself torn between continuing to panic about Loki's visit and beginning to feel just a _little_ bit of interest. Instead of choosing, he went for the bottle of whiskey that he kept in his "underwear drawer," thinking to himself as he opened it.

Thor had explained a hundred times that Loki was the God of Mischief, the God of Lying, the God of Tricks. Fury had reiterated that Loki was never to be trusted or allied with under any circumstances. But never in the past few months had anyone said a thing about Loki engaging people one-on-one with any _game_.

Loki's words resounded in Tony's head:

_... heal swiftly, Man of Iron ..._

"JARVIS?"

_Yes, Sir?_

"Could you run a full search on the words 'Loki' and 'games'?"

_Naturally, Sir. Shall I send the results to your phone or your tablet?_

"Both." Tony thought for a moment, turning back to the first page. ( _Reveal this book to no one's eyes but your own._ ) "Keep them out of the reach of the others, though. Invisible files, password protected, whatever you have to do. This will be a private project for the time being."

_But Sir, would the other Avengers not want to learn any new information about Loki?_

"Well, I'll share any new information that I learn. If I feel like it," Tony amended.

_Very well, Sir. Additionally, it is nearly twelve-fifteen. Ms. Potts will be waiting._

"Nearly? I have boatloads of time." Tony sat on the edge of his bed and began to turn the pages more quickly.

_Rule Three: All temporary instructions issued for an individual round must be followed by both players of the Game or by the player with a specific role that deals with the instructions._

_Rule Four: Aid from anyone who is not a player of the Game will not be tolerated._

_Rule Five: Any attempt to abandon the Game prior to its completion will result in the immediate penalty of the player at fault._

_Rule Six: Further Rules of the Game may be established when necessary by appearing in the Book of the Game._

_Rule Seven: Failure to comply with any Rules of the Game will result in the immediate termination of the Game and punishment of the defeated player._

Tony turned to the eighth page. The next message was in black ink and a (slightly) less elaborate scrawl.

**_Do you accept the Challenge of the Game, Tony Stark?_ **

Tony was about to turn to the next page when he noticed a thin, almost translucent heading across the top of the crisp paper: _Player Correspondence_.

Correspondence. As in, Tony could respond?

His heart thumped uncertainly as he set the book on top of his dresser and groped in his pockets for a pen. He found and uncapped it, positioning it above the paper.

Then he stopped.

Thoughts, mostly doubts, were pooling in his gut like liquid lead. This was Loki. Who knows what kind of sick trick this could be? And by signing it, Tony was pretty sure that he was signing away his right to get help from his team, from Fury. What would he do then? The pen creaked ominously in Tony's grip, and he forced his hand to relax. Then he snorted. Yeah- it was a trick. A trickster playing a trick; who could have seen that coming?

He was about to snap the book shut and take it downstairs when a fresh flicker of black appeared on the page. Tony fumbled with the book, sweaty hands slipping on the smooth cover, and opened it again to the correspondence page.

**_I, of course, promise to play fairly..._ **

Tony gritted his teeth. It was a trick, a trick, a trick-

More ink:

**_I believe that your acquiescence would be in the best interest of you and your team._ **

Tony's stomach dropped. There it was- the subtle threat, the hook to follow the bait. Loki knew that Tony wouldn't leave the rest of the Avengers defenseless, though they would all insist that they could take care of themselves.

Only, Tony thought with an ugly twisting feeling in his chest, they couldn't. Loki had made that perfectly clear by waltzing in, pretending to be Thor. He had displayed his deceptive skills to their fullest, like ripping a sheet off of a terrible, beautiful painting. And because of that, Tony knew that there was no way to guarantee the safety of Clint, or Natasha, or _anyone_. No way at all.

Unless he played Loki's game.

He looked at the pen in his palm for a few painful moments. With unsteady fingers, he forced himself to press it to the paper, to begin to write.

Nothing happened. No ink appeared on the page.

Tony pulled it away, almost sick with adrenaline, and shook the pen furiously. He scribbled a bit on his hand, and the black marks appeared easily, but when he tried once more on the paper, nothing-

**_You must use the proper pen, you ignoramus._ **

Tony's gaze snapped from Loki's fourth line of script to the fountain pen that still waited on his other pillow, forgotten.

"Oh. Right."

Hurrying over, Tony picked up the other pen, holding it up to get a better look at it. It was a delicate creation; thin threads of silver curled and wove around abase that seemed to be made of glass. Holding it up to the light, he could just barely see through the gaps left by the silver. Despite being so dainty, it had a surprising weight to it, a heaviness that reminded Tony oddly of the first time he'd held a loaded gun.

(It may as well be, the way he was going to sign his life away with it.)

First, though, Tony wrote:

**_Do you swear that you won't hurt them?_ **

In the moments that followed the writing, a hundred things flew though Tony's head. Things like Loki killing him in his sleep, like the look on Pepper's face if she knew what he was doing, like how _stupid_ he was, thinking that he could protect his team by making a dirty deal with a devil. They were barely even a team- they had only known each other a few months, anyway. What difference did it make if they died?

Then the guilt came, thick and crushing, and Tony knew that he would never forget it if he ignored this chance to keep them safe.

Then the reply appeared.

**_You ask too much of me._ **

Tony thought for a second that he had broken the pen in the flash of rage that followed the single line. And yet, the pen was whole in his hand. Tony was about to write again when JARVIS interrupted his thoughts.

_Sir? It is almost half past. Ms. Potts is waiting rather impatiently._

"I'll be there in a minute, JARVIS, tell her I'll be there in just one minute." Tony hated his voice for shaking, but the stress seemed to have saturated his blood, muscles, and mind.

He wrote:

**_Do you swear not to kill them?_ **

The reply was instantaneous.

**_I swear not to kill them on purpose._ **

On purpose. That could mean any number of things, but it meant that Loki wouldn't be able to slaughter them in their beds. But Loki would find a way around that, surely he would-

**_I grow impatient, Tony Stark._ **

Tony swallowed. Then he reached for the whiskey and swallowed some of that to ease the dryness in his throat.

In spite of those thoughts, those horrible doubts, Tony pressed the nib to the paper and wrote:

**_I accept._ **

There was a pause in which the only sound was Tony's blood roaring in his ears. Then:

_**Then let us begin.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers,  
> BlackSheep


	6. The Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the gap - I was struggling with the HTML text, but the rich text is working for me now, so copying and pasting is now available. Hopefully, I'll be putting up one or two chapters every day until we're caught up with FF.net. If you get impatient, you know where to go!

Tony stared at the little words, waiting for more. It took almost a minute before he realized that nothing more was going to appear on the correspondence page. Brow furrowed, Tony went back a page, then returned, staring at Loki's writing. Then he flipped one page ahead.

"Oh."

A single row of the same little gold print sat primly in the middle of the page.

_You found me once..._

Tony went on to the next page, wishing that Loki had put it all in one paragraph like a normal person. However, rather than finding more words on a white page waiting for him, Tony found himself staring at a full-color, two-page drawing that perfectly depicted the construction zone from one end of the site. If Tony had seen it in the paper, he would've sworn that it was a snapshot or still-frame; everything was exactly as he remembered it, right down to the pile of two-by-fours that he had knocked over on his way to Loki. In fact...

Tony did a double-take as he saw himself in the drawing, complete with a goatee, bag full of sandwiches, even the Aerosmith T-shirt he had been wearing. Tony flipped to the previous page (You found me once...) before returning to the picture and scanning for black and green. He barely had to try- Loki's form, long and lean, lurked behind the construction workers that stood by the table with those poor, exposed blueprints. It was a remarkable rendition of the scene- he wondered if Loki had drawn it himself or used magic.

He moved on. The next page was more like the others, with a line of text in the middle, but a heading similar to the one from Correspondence page caught his eye.

_Challenge One_

He read the sentence below (though it seemed more like a sentenc _ing_  than merely a sentence):

_... so, find me once more._

Tony flipped the page.

"Oh, fuck."

Though the book was tall and broad enough to have a Mona Lisa on each page, the two adjoining pages were packed with people barely a centimeter tall. The thought that came to Tony's overwhelmed, alcohol-ridden mind was that it reminded him of that book from his childhood (one of the few that weren't about physics or engineering, anyway): "Where's Waldo?"

Although the comparison made the corners of his mouth twitch up for a moment (Where's Loki?), he stopped and re-read the line of text. ( _... so, find me once more._ ) Then he looked back at the other picture, at Loki's easily visible face. Maybe "Where's Loki" wasn't so far from the point of this challenge.

_Sir, Ms. Potts is beginning to lose her patience._

"I'm coming, JARVIS, just give me one more minute."

Tony was on the verge of closing the book and returning with a magnifying glass after the conference when it grew suddenly cold in his hands, as though someone had dropped it into liquid nitrogen without Tony's permission. He dropped it with a strangled shout, and it landed without a sound on the thick carpeting. Tony bent to collect it, noticing that it had fallen open to the Player Correspondence section. It had been wiped clean except for two lines.

The first said:

**_It is essential that you examine the Laws of Juncture on the thirteenth page of the Book of the Game._ **

Tony frowned, wondering how many Rules and Laws there were in this irksome game. His thoughts were quickly stalled by the second line:

**_I look forward to your conference._ **

It could mean anything, Tony told himself, cold sweat beginning to bead on the back of his neck. It could mean that he would watch it on TV or read all about it in the  _Times_  or...

Tony flipped ahead with freshly-shaking fingers. He squinted at the picture.

Or it could mean that this drawing was of the first floor of Stark Tower.

Tony stared at the paper. It was painted as though the rest of the building had been lifted away like a doll's house. The dolls in this equation numbered in the low hundreds- each room seemed to be packed. He felt somehow transfixed by the detail and the vividness of the colors that somehow shone despite the dimness of his room. Tony traced the walls with one finger, nodding to himself ever-so-slightly as he confirmed that they matched the first floor of the Tower precisely. It even had a conference room with a speaker that he could  _just_  make out as himself.

The conference. Loki would be at the conference, and he probably wasn't attending just to bring glad tidings.

But... that meant that Tony would have a chance to stop him, to corner him. A chance to force the truth about the game out of the devilish god.

A voice interrupted his increasingly hopeful thoughts.

_Sir, Ms. Potts-_

"JARVIS, just call Pepper's cell for me, please." Tony strained his eyes on the picture, but he knew that it would take more than a few seconds to find Loki this time. Plus, he had some Laws of Conjunction or something to read.

_Certainly, Sir._

After a few seconds, Pepper's voice came over the speaker, loud and irate. "Tony, what the hell are you trying to-"

"I need you to push the conference back an hour."

There was a pause. " _Excuse me?_  Do you honestly expect-?"

"Pepper, I'm being serious. I'll be down at one-fifteen."

Something in his voice must have given him away, because Pepper responded with "What's wrong? Are you okay up there?" He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "Are your injuries bothering you? Do you need my help?"

"No, no. Don't come up. I just..." His eyes strayed to the intricately colored page. "I need more time. Can you do it?"

"I can try. Tony, are you sure you don't want-?"

"I'm fine, Potts. Don't worry." He ended the call and turned back to the book on the desk. "JARVIS, I'm going to need a magnifying glass. Wait, no- what am I thinking? Scratch that, I just need you to scan these pages-" Tony lifted the book face-up towards the ceiling, "-and project them against the wall, blown up to ten times their original size."

 _Of course_. The lights in the room dimmed as the blue light of the scanner swept over the page once, twice... a third time, a fourth time-

_Sir, it would seem that the pages you are requesting me to scan are blank._

Tony jerked his arms down, fearing that Loki had wiped the book after giving a meager minute to look, but to his relief, the picture remained intact. He raised it once more. "Try it again."

JARVIS did. _I'm sorry, Sir. It appears that the images cannot be discerned by our scanners._

"Dammit. I'll be needing that magnifying glass after all, please."

* * *

It took Tony a full forty-two minutes to locate the familiar head of dark hair near the exit in the conference room (even though Tony had been _sure_  that he had already checked there). He sat up straight, wincing as his back popped and snapped, and took a better look. Sure enough, Loki's face smirked up at the podium, green eyes narrowed. Tony pulled the glass away and looked at the picture. It was miraculous, really, how detailed it was.

During the search, Tony had discovered three men picking their noses, a wallaby chasing one of his secretaries (Tony's secretary, not the wallaby's), four stately flamingos waiting in line for a drinking fountain, the Hulk sitting on someone who looked an awful lot like Director Fury, and Natasha sunbathing half-naked in the front lobby (Tony was thoroughly distracted by this one for a while). And that was just the left half of the building. Tony decided that Loki had almost certainly used magic to create it.

_Sir, you have five more minutes before you promised Ms. Potts you would be ready to leave._

His head snapped up to the clock above the fireplace. It confirmed this. "I'll be ready, JARVIS, just give a yell one minute before hand."

_Certainly._

Tony's attention returned to the picture. He poised the magnifying glass over Loki's image, reassuring himself that the trickster hadn't tweaked the picture since he had last looked. Thankfully, he remained in place. Tony was about to lower the glass when he noticed something a centimeter or two above Loki's head. He squinted. An analog clock rested on the wall of the conference room, reading- Tony's face was almost touching the paper - two-ten.

Tony sat back, rubbing his eyes. Two-ten. If he was right, that meant that Loki would be in the conference room at two-ten, right in the middle of the conference, and Tony would be able to...

... to what?

Tony pushed the thoughts away (he would figure out something when the timing was right), turning instead to the correspondence page. He was forgetting something; scanning the black ink, Tony nodded to himself. The Laws of Juncture.

He flipped ahead, quickly finding the page with the Laws. They were written in more of the gold ink and flowing script that Tony was beginning to hate just a little bit (or a lot). For once, there was a brief introduction before the list:

**_The Laws of Juncture_ **

_The Junctures themselves are defined as the annual meetings between the players of the Game to establish the rules of the coming Challenge. The period of time during a Juncture of the Game shall also be utilized for the bargain over the appeasement of the victor and the losses of the defeated of the prior Challenge. Under both formal and impromptu meetings, the following ordinances must be adhered to precisely in order to maintain the Spirit of the Game:_

Tony considered this. Annual meetings? Losses? He was regretting his agreement with every flowery word that he read.

_The First Law: As each Juncture of the Game is tantamount to a temporary truce, no player may intentionally inflict injury on another._

_The Second Law: In order to maintain balance and neutrality throughout the Juncture, all players must bestow and accept in equal measure, whether dealing in answers or offerings._

(Yeah, like Loki was going to buy him a present.)

_The Third Law: All guidelines specific to an individual Game or Challenge must be settled during a Juncture._

_The Fourth Law: All rewards and concessions of the victors and the defeated players, respectively, must be decided during the Juncture of the Game immediately following the challenge in question._

_The Fifth Law: All final decisions must be approved by the Master of the Game. In the absence of the Master of the Game, the players must reach a compromise._

_The Sixth Law: All formal Junctures of the Game will take place on an annual day. Informal meetings may be called by either player clasping his or her Gauntlet of the Game._

(Gauntlet? What, like some kind of gardening glove?)

_The Seventh Law: Any violation of the Laws of Juncture will result in the severest of penalties for the transgressor, to be decided by the opposing player. Transgressions by more than one player will be castigated appropriately by the Master of the-_

JARVIS' voice cut into Tony's concentration.  _Sir? Regrettably, it is time to depart._

Tony's head jerked up once more to look at the clock. It was a quarter after one. "What happened to a warning?"

_I tried to alert you, Sir, but you were rather preoccupied at the time._

"Right. Shit..." Tony returned to the final line on the page-

_... castigated appropriately by the Master of the Game._

"And who the hell is  _that?_ " Tony grumbled.

_Sir..._

"I'm  _coming,_  JARVIS!" He slammed the book and, after a moment's hesitation, stuck it under the mountain of ties in the topmost drawer of his dresser. He would have to think of a better place to put it if his team wasn't allowed to see it; despite the past few incident-free months, he didn't quite trust them enough to leave it sitting out on, say, his bedside table.

Tony left his room quickly, wondering what he would tell Pepper to explain his delay of the conference. Maybe he would be able to convince her that he had napped or gotten laid or something.

However, when the elevator doors opened onto the main floor, Tony didn't have much of a chance to explain anything before Pepper had grabbed him by his lapel and hauled him towards the front door, alternating between shouting at him about punctuality and asking him if he was okay. He barely had time to wave to Clint and Natasha (and the conspicuous stack of empty bottles beside them).

As it was, he found himself in the backseat of one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s vehicles (he really preferred his own- these felt too much like portable jail cells for his liking) speeding away from the Mansion with Pepper at his side.

He resisted the urge to cross his fingers for luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers,  
> BlackSheep


	7. The Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper head for the conference. What could possibly go wrong?

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you made me call Fury to push the conference back?" Pepper asked dryly, staring straight ahead as the car started forward.

"I... I had an idea for a new project. Something that might help us with our Loki problem." There- that wasn't  _too_  much of a lie. Still, Pepper's gaze had that vaguely disbelieving tint as she glanced at him and then back to the front.

"You weren't trying to fix yourself up, were you?" Her voice held that combination of worry and irritation that Tony had grown familiar with while they were dating.

"No. There's really nothing that I can do to fix it." Tony stared out the window, his thoughts straying to the book. He had to figure out what to do once he got to the conference. Should he tell Fury? Was he even allowed to?

Pepper's sigh brought him back to the conversation. "Tony... I know things have been weird with us, but if something was really wrong, you would tell me, right?"

He turned to look at her, trying not to look (or feel) guilty. The two of them had broken up about five months after the original Loki Disaster, when Tony had been beaten to a pulp by Victor Von Doom on a random solo patrol. Tony had stumbled across the doctor, who had then literally ripped Tony's armor apart and bludgeoned him with it. When he had woken up from the tiny (two-week long) coma, Victor had escaped to Latveria and Pepper was at his bedside, begging him to stop being an Avenger. He'd said something along the lines of "hell no."

The next week had been full of shouting matches and pent-up emotions spilling out. The final straw was when Tony had washed down his painkillers with a few (nine) shots of Natasha's vodka. He didn't actually remember much of what had happened when Pepper had found him, but Clint later told him that Pepper had lost it, screaming that she was sick of him lying and drinking and endangering himself time and time again, and eventually, somewhere in her rant, she had broken off their relationship.

She had called the next day, after Tony had (mostly) sobered up, apologizing for losing her temper. She did, however, firmly (or shakily) state that she couldn't handle being with him anymore. She had remained his secretary, because they both knew that Stark Industries would collapse without her, but things had been rocky for a few months. And in times like these, when Tony lied and she knew it (and he knew that she knew it, and she probably knew that, too), he would flash back to the nights that he lied to protect her ("Thor's got my shift, I just need to rest," or "I'll try not to patrol alone, I promise."). He was pretty sure that she did, too.

And now the white book was waiting for him upstairs in his tie-drawer, and Loki was planning something for the conference, and his chest  _hurt,_  an all he wanted to do was tell her the truth (for once).

But he lied anyway.

"Of course I would, Potts." He even added his sincerest smile to the end.

Her face was weary as she turned to look out her window. Tony braced himself for a lecture or (heaven forbid) tears, but her voice was businesslike and cool when she said, "I didn't get through to talk to Director Fury directly, but from what Phil told me, he wasn't happy about moving the conference back. I just hope you have the good sense to tell  _him_  the truth."

"Eh. We'll see." Tony looked away from her, instead focusing on the people outside the window. He wondered if any of them thought he was a criminal. "Do you have any idea what my statement is going to be?"

"Phil said something about portraying the 'woman' as a minion of one of the local villains, or a rising villain, or something. I don't think Loki's in the statement at all."

Tony frowned out the window. "Not even a _little?_  Why?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe he doesn't want people panicking. After all, it hasn't been _that_  long since the chaos last spring, and if people think that Loki is out and about again..."

She trailed off, and Tony considered her words. It was true that when Loki had originally arrived in Central Park, Fury had done his damnedest to keep it hush-hush. Now that he thought about it, he didn't remember seeing any articles in the paper about it, nor any late-night news stories.

He opened his mouth, about to ask Pepper if she thought Fury was hiding something (for the eighteen-thousandth time), but quickly snapped his jaws shut as he remembered whose men were driving them to the conference.

Tony was sure that the ride's tense silence would have continued had it not been such a short ride to begin with. As it was, there was only a minute before they pulled to a stop in front of the (intensely reconstructed) Stark Tower. Tony was out in a flash, raising one hand to guard his face from the seeking lenses of the paparazzi's cameras. He had neglected to use anything on his face, medicine or makeup (although, thanks to the alcohol, the underlying aches of the bruises had dulled considerably).

He was surprised at the mob scene inside- it seemed that Loki's drawing had been accurate in more than just the mapping. He glanced around, half-hoping to see Natasha sunbathing by the doors, but to no avail.

"Come on, Tony," Pepper grabbed him by the arm and towed him though the masses. Most of them were too involved in a conversation to notice Tony in their midst, but he did get a couple handshakes and slaps on the back as he moved among them.

As soon as they made it to the prep room, Tony asked, "What's with the people out there?"

Pepper sent a look skyward (the one that said,  _why me?_ ) before saying, "It was the Chairman's Brunch this morning. That's the after-party out there."

"That can't be right. I don't know a single one of those people." Tony batted away a pug-faced woman with a tube of flesh-colored paste, instead cracking the door and looking out. "Not a one. Oh, hey! It's Larry!" He waved.

"Stark, I will personally strangle you if you don't sit your ass down and let us get you ready for this conference."

Tony turned, considered making a joke about having Fury's hands wrapped around him, and decided against it. Instead, he sat on the stool in front of the makeup counter (deliberately facing the wrong way), wincing as the assistant immediately began smearing concealer onto the bruises harder than was necessary. "Good to see you, too," he muttered in Fury's general direction.

"Oh, my, I've forgotten my manners. How are you, Stark? Feeling better? Mostly sober? No? Well, nobody's perfect." Fury's tone was light and mocking, but his eye was steely. Tony glowered right back at him. "I really am curious, though, why you just  _had_  to push the conference back. I'm sure there was a significant reason behind it." Fury sat on the arm of the leather couch and crossed his arms, waiting.

Tony fiddled with his cuff-link, trying to think. This was the time to tell Fury the truth, to tell him what he had done. To tell him that Loki would be dropping by to visit in less than thirty minutes.

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to begin.

Only he couldn't force the words out. It wasn't magically-induced, this tongue-paralysis. He just couldn't make himself confess to signing away his soul.

It struck him then- that was precisely what he had done. Loki could call it a "Game" all he wanted, but this was something so much worse than that. Something so much  _deeper_.

So he turned away from Fury's penetrating stare, ignoring the sound of protest from the makeup assistant, and instead looked at nothing in particular in the depths of the mirror. His black eye made him look almost as desolate as he felt. His voice was dull when he said, "I had some trouble finding a tie to go with this suit."

He could feel Fury's dissatisfied gaze on the back of his head- in fact, he could see it in the mirror, over his shoulder. Dissatisfied, and a little suspicious. Over his other shoulder, he could observe Pepper's furrowed brow (what lie had he told her?), and the thought of having an angel and a devil over each shoulder crossed his mind. (But that's not quite right- the real devil was going to appear in the conference room any minute now.)

"I see. Well, I certainly hope you're satisfied with your final choice." (Tony glanced at his tie in the mirror- it was a dark amber-ish color that Pepper had once said brought out his eyes.) "In the meantime, you can start going over your notes." The stack of index cards landed on the mirror table with a soft sound. Tony reached for them, taking off the paper clip that held them together. Instead of the bullet-points that Tony was used to, the entire card was filled with a neat, easily-deciphered handwriting. Flipping through the rest, he discovered that they were all similarly packed with words.

"Jeez, Nick, do you want me to be up there all night?"

"Shouldn't take longer than ten minutes or so, and you won't be accepting questions."

"Of course not," Tony muttered (the last thing S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted was to have him ad-libbing on live television). Ignoring whatever else Fury had to say, Tony focused on the cards in his hands:

_Good afternoon, everyone. It pains me greatly that we had to meet under such unfortunate and uncertain circumstances..._

Blah, blah, blah. Tony skimmed until he found something relevant:

_... truly distressing events yesterday involving my arrest. The woman that I assaulted is, in fact, working for HYDRA, a terrorist group that the Avengers have been fighting for decades. I was returning from an errand when I recognized her on the construction site, and noticed that she was taking notes on the blueprints for the new apartment complex. I suspected that she had a nefarious use for this information, and immediately attempted to apprehend her. Unfortunately, her identity as a HYDRA operative is new information. Because of this, the police officers mistook her for a victim rather than a criminal, and arrested me instead. I hold no grudge against NYPD, and will be pressing no charges. The Avengers are working harder than ever to uncover HYDRA's plans and whereabouts, and will continue to do so until they are no longer a threat. In the meantime, the charges against me have been dropped..._

"The charges were dropped?" Tony asked suddenly, interrupting whatever conversation Pepper and Fury were holding behind him. He could see the director's nod in the mirror.

"We pulled some strings. It wasn't that difficult after the initial buzz died down a bit. Without the victim's testimony, there wasn't much motive for you. Some people even thought that the way you were arrested on the spot was a little judgmental. The fact that the girl's face couldn't be matched with any person's profile on the western hemisphere helped, too."

"Hm." Tony returned to the note cards, but from then on it was mostly the legal gibberish that he hated. Still, he had to admit that it wasn't  _too_  bad, though it didn't sound much like him. "Well, you'd better hope that HYDRA doesn't come after us for bad-mouthing them on television."

Fury shrugged. "If anything, prodding them like this will get them to tip their hand to let us know what they're planning next. They've been quiet for too long."

"How resourceful of you," Tony commented caustically (his head was beginning to ache, and he was feeling a little mean). He glanced around the room and opened his mouth.

"No."

Tony turned to look at Pepper. "What?"

She wasn't amused. "You can't have anything to drink. You're on the verge of slurring as it is."

Tony sulked, sinking down a bit in his seat. "I've done things  _much_  worse than slurring on television."

"Yes. It's the 'worse' that we're trying to avoid. I'll get you some water."

Tony gave up, instead thinking about what he would do when he spotted Loki in the crowd.

Fifteen minutes later, he hadn't gotten much farther than "grab him," which was what he had started with. Still, he followed Pepper down the hall to the conference room without complaint or any attempt at stalling.

The room was packed with reporters who leaped up and began to yell at him the second he entered. The woman from Vanity Fair remained seated in the second row, smirking or glaring or both. Pepper quieted them and introduced Tony (though he really needed no introduction), stating that there would be no time for questions at the end of the conference. Then Tony was at the podium, listening to a hint of feedback in the microphone and watching numerous pens being placed on numerous pads of paper. His eyes trailed to the back of the room. It was a straight shot from where he stood to the door; an aisle sliced the pack of reporters cleanly in two. He pictured the image from the book, placing Loki's appearing point a bit to the right of the doors.

Then he realized that the reporters were all staring at him with mixed levels of expectancy and irritation (most of them  _had_  been waiting more than an hour), and he cleared his throat to begin.

"Good afternoon, everyone. It pains me greatly that we had to meet under such unfortunate and uncertain circumstances, and I hope that I can clear up some of the confusion today..." Tony read the card as clearly as he could, but his mind raced with his heart. Every few seconds he would look to the doors, expecting to see Loki. He caught Pepper's eye once and nearly stumbled over his words; she wore a confused expression, not understanding why he was so distracted. He tried to be more present in his address, but he couldn't focus worth a damn on the press. His mouth read the words, his eyes searched for Loki.

"... I hold no grudge against the NYPD, and will be pressing no charges..."

The young man appeared in the blink of an eye. He wore a neat green jacket and had long, gold-ish hair pulled back from his face in a ponytail. His odd, rectangular spectacles made his green eyes look huge.

His luminescent green eyes.

_Loki!_

The second they made eye contact, the young man's lips quirked up at the corners, and he turned to leave.

Tony's heart stopped. He shoved the cards at Pepper with shaking hands and hissed "finish it!" before leaping down the steps and dashing after him. He ignored Pepper's surprised shout, keeping his eyes locked on the clover-green jacket that bobbed and weaved easily through the crushing mass of black suits. Tony had significantly more trouble with it.

"Move! Move, move, out of my way!"

He shoved and elbowed his way through, sending people stumbling to either side of him. "Stop!  _Stop!_ "

Obviously, Loki did no such thing. The trickster was almost to the hallway that lead to all of the first-floor offices, and Tony was a solid twenty feet behind him, still fighting the tide of businessmen. By the time Tony reached the edge, Loki's lead had grown to forty feet.

Tony kicked a flamingo out of his way and sped down the deserted hallway, keeping sight of the gold hair. He could've sworn he could hear Loki laughing.

The trickster made a sudden left, veering into the door that lead to an unused section of the basement. Tony swore internally and gritted his teeth, putting an extra burst of speed on to reach the door before Loki could close it. He burst through, accompanied by the spectacular  _crash_  of the door hitting the wall.

And he fell.

The ground dropped from below his feet, and he went tumbling down the flight of stairs, each step feeling like a small anvil when he landed on it. Then his back hit the floor, chasing the wind from his lungs and sending stars into his eyes.

Stars and trickster gods.

The spectacles disintegrated as the long, golden hair fell from the ponytail and became longer and blacker. The green jacket also lengthened and darkened, morphing into the familiar dull-emerald and black leather ensemble, complete with usual the metallic lacework at his shoulders.

Loki smirked broadly above him.

"Welcome to the first Juncture of the Game, Tony Stark."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once more, lovelies!
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine.
> 
> Warning: the usual.
> 
> Important note: In my version, Coulson didn't die. Loki stabbed him, but he survived. (Because this is fanfiction, dammit, and he's alive if I say so!)
> 
> Cheers,  
> BlackSheep


	8. The First Juncture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More answers, more questions.

"Welcome to the first Juncture of the Game, Tony Stark."

Tony struggled to force air into his lungs, compelling himself to overcome the feeling of panic that was beginning to swallow him- the lack of air and the presence of an enemy was never a good combination. In fact (Tony's heart pounded faster than ever), Loki was probably going to impale him right then and there. He braced himself for a death blow from the grinning god.

It never came.

Instead, Tony slowly regained his breath on the floor of the dim, dusty basement, becoming aware of his injuries bit by bit. He was pretty sure that he had broken something; his chest seared with every breath, and his left shoulder was already stiffening ominously.

"Are you done being so...  _mortal?_ " Loki's amused disdain dripped onto Tony like syrup.

"Yeah, of course," Tony gasped, the bursts of pain making him grit his teeth as he struggled to sit up on his own. He flinched as two hands clasped his arms and helped to lift him. His feet scrabbled awkwardly on the ground as Loki half-dragged, half-carried him to a table set with two chairs and deposited him (not too gently, mind you) in the closest seat. Tony tried to take deep breaths and slow his heart. His arms felt odd where Loki had grabbed him, as though the god's hands still rested close to his skin. Only, they were folded neatly on the table across from him, pale in the light from the hanging lamp above them (the only one that was lit. Tony wondered absently if Loki had planned that, then dismissed the thought. Of course he had.)

"I must say, Man of Iron, you are not terribly talkative when you have forsaken your armor. Or is it simply my presence that is putting you off?"

Tony glared up at him. Loki was smiling slightly, not looking the least bit sorry for Tony's fall (not that Tony expected him to). "Just catching my breath."

"Ah, yes. Are you quite finished? We will not be left alone forever; your sudden departure guaranteed that." Loki's words were reinforced by the sound of footsteps echoing from the rooms above them.

"Yeah, fine." Tony sat back slowly, resisting the urge to test his ribs with his fingers. His gaze never wavered from Loki, but the god showed no sign of attacking, and he gradually began to relax (not  _entirely_ , but a little bit). "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to explain what the hell I've agreed to."

Loki tilted his head to one side in a comically innocent expression, dark hair spilling over one razor-like cheekbone. "You did not read the Rules of the Game? Or the Laws of Juncture?"

"I did. But let's face it, there were a _lot_  of rules, and I'm not much of a follower to begin with." Tony felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but he ignored it.

Loki's eyes, a deep holly-leaf green in the dimness, pinned Tony into place for a moment before he let out a short, irked sigh. He made an obscure, complex motion with his hands and a broad, thin black book materialized in the air above the tabletop. Loki scattered the dust with a wave of his hand (Tony sneezed) before setting the book down carefully. Thin gold lettering in the center read  _The Game_.

Tony blamed the remnants of the alcohol in his blood for making him blurt, "My book-?"

"Wrong. This is  _my_  book. All players must be in possession of one." Loki opened it and flipped the pages daintily until he reached the one that, even from upside-down, Tony could recognize as the page of Laws. "This, Tony Stark," Loki gestured between them quickly, as though he was hurrying slightly, "is a Juncture. It is a truce of sorts in the Game, a time when players meet and discuss past and future challenges. We shall hold them weekly, as is customary."

Tony blinked. He hadn't quite expected Loki to be so forthcoming with information about this (although, Tony supposed that everything that the god had just said was in the book that Tony had skimmed). "What, so you're just going to pop into the Mansion every Sunday to talk about this game of yours?"

Loki raised an eyebrow and turned the book towards Tony, jabbing his finger at a place near the bottom of the page. "The Sixth Law. Read it."

Tony leaned forward, finding the Law in question.  _"All formal Junctures of the Game will take place on an annual day. Informal meetings may be called by either player clasping his or her Gauntlet of the Game._ " He looked up at the god. "A gauntlet? Like, some sort of weird glove?"

Loki reached into his coat (Tony did  _not_  flinch,  _thankyouverymuch_ ) and pulled out two dense-looking circlets of metal, each one about as broad as a clenched fist. "Lend me your hand."

Tony yanked his arms out of Loki's reach. "Hell no!"

One thin black brow rose. "Very well. Which of your teammates would you like me to slaughter first? I believe I owe our time-lost Captain a visit."

The hair on Tony's neck and arms stood up, responding to the ice and danger that laced Loki's tone. "But you can't- you swore-"

"The Game has many rules, Man of Iron, as you accurately stated. By breaking even one of them, you restore my right to slay your fellows." Loki's face was cool and calm and, underneath his controlled shell, just a little bit anticipatory. This was his game: he was enjoying watching Tony dance.

Tony swallowed. "They can fight. We beat you once." He was vaguely aware that he was instigating the same argument that he had undertaken internally when he had been presented with the book.

Loki tilted his head again, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Tony had the horrible feeling that the god could see into Tony's head. "That was then. I have considerably less to lose now. Even if I did not, your precious allies could not hope to defeat me by themselves. They would never anticipate the attack." Loki's voice had a subtle melody to it, and Tony found himself transfixed by the rise and fall of the terrible words. "Have you not already considered this?"

Tony gritted his teeth and offered his wrist rather than answering the question (what else was he supposed to do?). He felt exposed as Loki's sly smile curled around his face.

He wasted no time in selecting the paler of the two cuffs and bending it at a hidden seam, enclosing Tony's wrist before he could second-guess himself. The circlet was cool against Tony's skin and showed no signs of beginning to warm up after being pressed against his wrist. He didn't dwell on it, though- he was more concerned by Loki's hands grazing his skin as the Asgardian smoothed hidden imperfections from the surface of the bracelet. As Loki pulled his hands away, Tony noticed rows of tiny runes etched into the metal's surface. Each one was delicate and precise, formed with a grace that somehow reminded Tony of flower petals. He moved to touch them, only to find his hand snatched away.

"Hey!" Tony struggled to detach himself from Loki's grip, but the god's hold was brutal, and Tony's injured shoulder was about as strong as a handful of fresh spaghetti noodles.

"So curious, you humans," Loki muttered. Tony noticed that the darker cuff was around the other man's wrist, just above the sleeve of the leather coat. "Always with the need to prod unnecessarily."

"Whatever, won't happen again, just-" Tony pulled against the grip. "-just  _let go_."

To Tony's surprise, he did. Tony sat back in his chair, wishing that hr had thought to stash his armor nearby. Alone, in Loki's company, he felt very exposed.

Loki moved on, paying no mind to Tony's hostile glare. "The Gauntlet of the Game is both a weapon and a means of summoning another player. No matter where you are to begin with, once I grasp the Gauntlet with my palm touching this rune-," he pointed first to a row of squiggly markings on his Gauntlet, then to a matching set on Tony's. "-you will be transported to my side. Yours, of course, has the same ability. Also, if I were you, I would not let my brother see it, as he would recognize it immediately for what it truly is." Loki's tone went dark for a moment and his smile turned knife-like as he mentioned Thor. Tony withheld a shiver.

A flurry of footsteps and shouts filtered through the ceiling, and Tony's phone buzzed again. Loki leaned back in his chair, looking upwards with an amused expression. "They've scattered like blind rats, looking for you. If you intend to keep this arrangement a secret, I recommend that we continue."

"Waiting on you." Tony thought that his snide attitude might make Loki irritated enough to do... something (violent, probably), but he only bared that grin once more.

"Naturally. The Gauntlet's use as a weapon can be explained later, but the rest of the Laws cannot be set aside. I will only ask this once: what will you have me explain to you?"

Tony stared. Loki stared back, looking unruffled by the intense confusion that Tony was evincing (What? This _really_  wasn't what he'd been expecting! Threats and vague promises of world domination, yes, but  _explanations?_ ).

Then Tony understood. This wasn't nine months ago, when Loki was under major pressure to get the Tesseract and beat every Avenger on his own. This was now, when Loki had maneuvered Tony into a game, a sneaky game, and games were what Loki loved. He was on home turf, holding all the cards in one hand and Tony's marionette strings in the other, and he was having  _fun_. It would be easy to let Tony fail, but this was Loki, who loved the chase as much as the kill; it wouldn't be as enjoyable if Tony was an easy opponent to beat (hence the explanation). And besides, being in their comfort zone will make anyone a little more willing and patient.

"We do not have unlimited time, Man of Iron."

(Well, patient to a point, anyway.)

"Um. Well..." Tony cleared his throat and peered at the book. "The first Law is pretty clear, no hurting one another... the second one is kind of odd. Is it a sort of 'eye for an eye' principle?"

Loki raised his eyebrows. "I don't believe that the exchange of eyes is mentioned in any Law."

Tony snorted despite himself. "It's a saying. What I'm asking is, if I gave you a watch, you would have to give me a watch in return?"

"It is not so literally interpreted. A gift for a gift, a question for a question, an answer for an answer." Loki paused, a bemused expression crossing his face (it lent the god an unfamiliar, kinder demeanor). "In which case, I suppose 'an eye for an eye' is an appropriate means of explanation."

"You learn something new every day. Okay, Law three. Guidelines: do we have guidelines to settle?"

"Not for the upcoming Challenge." There were more yells above them. "Do hasten, Man of-"

Tony lifted his non-gauntlet hand to stop him. "Okay, would you stop with the 'Man of Iron' thing? And for Pete's sake, don't call me Mr. Stark, I hate that almost more than I hate Man of Iron. And 'Tony Stark' is just plain overkill."

Loki looked perplexed. "Then what shall I call you? And who is Pete?"

"Pete? Never mind about Pete. You can call me Stark, or just Tony. Or, you know, you can call me jackass like Natasha does sometimes..."

There was an echoing shout from above (Tony was sure he recognized Fury's dulcet tones even through the layers of concrete) and Loki opened his mouth. Tony cut him off.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Four- the gains and losses. What does-?"

Loki interrupted. "It is the foremost Law of the Game, the whole motivation for one to engage in the competition. During a Juncture at the end of a Challenge, the Challenge's winner will state the prize that he desires, and it shall be the job of the defeated to attain it and present it to the victor."

Tony frowned, trying to think. "So you're only doing this because there are things that you want?"

Loki laughed, surprising Tony. It was a softer laugh than he was used to hearing from the god- he had come to expect the cackle of a nearly-won battle or the chuckle of a plot well executed. "You cannot fathom my reasoning, and I advise that you do not try." He leaned forward slightly. "I will tell you this: there shall always be items that I desire, and there shall always be interesting gambits and stratagems that I wish to try. This Game combines the two. And what that means, Stark, is that I shall never be bored so long as the game continues." Loki sat back again, and Tony blinked- he had been falling into a bit of a trance again, listening to Loki speak (no wonder Thor sometimes called him "Silvertongue"). "You cannot pretend that there is nothing you desire. I vowed to contend fairly, and I shall." That devious smile played at the edges of Loki's mouth. "You may surprise yourself at what you might accomplish and what you might receive."

Tony's shiver caught him by surprise (and hurt more than he would have expected- he really needed to ice his damn shoulder), and he returned his attention to the book. Loki's smug satisfaction at having displaced Tony's calm exterior rested softly but persistently on Tony's shoulders like sunbeams. "Rule five-"

" _Law_  five."

"Right, whatever. The Fifth Law- ah, yes. Who the hell is the Master of the Game? It says that we can't do shit without him..."

Tony trailed off at the look Loki was giving him. It was one of those scornful, haughty, I-can't-believe-you're-actually-this-stupid looks that he occasionally received from supervillains. He had to admit, Loki's was the best he had seen: wholly withering, with a hint of exasperated amusement. But why was he-

"Oh. Oh, you've got to be fucking _kidding me-!_ "

Loki shrugged innocently, green eyes sparkling. "It is no matter, I assure you. I vowed to play fairly, did I not?"

"But... but the Master of the Game deals in _final decisions_ , and- and-  _castigation_ , and-"

"Do not let it worry you, Tony Stark."

"Don't let it-? Are you  _kidding?_ " Tony was sure that he would be laughing or crying in a few moments (he assigned equal blame to Loki and sleep-deprivation).

"Who else would it be? The Master of the Game must be a seasoned player, fluent in every conceivable Rule." Loki's face was deceptively earnest, pale lips quirked up at the corners. "In fact, I have been acting as Master of the Game since we began today's Juncture. Otherwise, every inquiry you have made would allow me to force an answer out of you in return. The Second Law, Tony Stark, requires balance. Or have you forgotten so readily?"

Tony rubbed his eyes, wincing as his fingers met the bruise on his left eye. Knowing that he had come so close to losing already made his head spin and his stomach lurch (or maybe that was the alcohol). But it made no sense. "Why? You could easily take advantage of that, use it against me, and you know it. So why didn't you?"

Loki's gaze was sharp, locked onto Tony's eyes. After a moment, Tony realized he had wiped off a good deal of the makeup by accident; he almost said something, but Loki beat him to it. "Must I say it once more? _I vowed to be fair._  I want to win, yes, but I have been so _bored_ of late. Letting you flounder about, making blunders at every turn, would be entertaining for a week or so. But I have aimed for something  _more._  Something that will challenge us both." Loki's eyes were wide, and for a moment, Tony could see the excitement within, see the daring, the  _life_ that radiated from the trickster. He was suddenly struck by the vitality that the god emitted: dressed in the black and green that suited him so well, emerald eyes flashing with unspoken knowledge, lips parted slightly in the aftermath of his words.

Tony nodded slowly, disengaging himself from Loki's intensity and looking down. "I... I understand." He almost returned to the book, but stopped and made himself look up once more. "How will I know when you're a player or a master?"

Loki shrugged a little, the manic gleam lingering in his eyes. "You might find yourself able to perceive a difference. You might not."

Ah, there was the old Loki. Tony snorted slightly to himself and glanced down at the book. "Sixth law... that's the gauntlet and the meetings. Where do we go for the Junctures?"

"There is no single location. As long as you and I are in the same room on a Sunday, the Juncture is taking place." Loki sat back, losing his aura of wild energy (for the most part, anyway).

"Gotcha." Tony's eyes roved the page. "And lastly, number seven... okay, so basically 'follow the rules or else'?"

"Laws."

"Yeah, Laws, whatever."

Loki nodded once. "If you break a Law, I may choose to punish you as I see fit or ask for some form of penance similar You would have the same responsibility should I deviate from the Laws." (Loki's tone told Tony that he was  _truly_  unconcerned about this occurring. Tony wasn't too optimistic, either.)

"Right. And if both of us break the rules? It says that the Master of the-,"

"Yes, the Master of the Game would decide the punishment. Should we both break the Laws, I will manage it as I see fit, though I doubt that we will find ourselves to be... how is it you Midgardians say it...? 'Partners in crime'." Loki smiled as though appreciating an inside joke.

"I see. Well," Tony slammed the book, and Loki winced. "That's that. I don't suppose you tell me your evil plan now?"

Loki offered only a seraphic smile ( _A_ _n evil plan? Me? Never..._ ), and Tony sighed. "Didn't think so."

"There are no specific guidelines to arrange for the coming Challenge, and-" Someone shouted something from outside the door to the basement. Loki glanced up, unfazed, before returning his attention to Tony. "-I believe that we may part if you have no other questions."

He considered. "Just one- have you ever read 'Where's Waldo?'"

Loki tipped his head to one side. It was an odd little motion that Tony would have normally found endearing (But this was _Loki,_  so...). "I have not. Of what significance is this 'Waldo'?"

"Nothing- you two just have a few things in common, is all." Tony did his best to hide his smile at Loki's puzzled face. He did the same thing to Thor sometimes; it never got old (though Tony was sure that Loki would kill him, game or no game, if Tony ever compared the brothers aloud).

"I see." Outside, the yelling grew louder, and Tony thought he could hear someone trying the doorknob. "Before we are interrupted, Tony Stark-"

"Just Tony. Or just Stark."

"-I would like to aid you in a small way."

Tony yelped as Loki darted forward, faster than a snake, and pressed his hands to Tony's face. He didn't know whether the god was going to snap his neck or kiss him, but he couldn't wrench his head out of the iron-like grip. The hands were cool against his skin- they might even be soothing if they weren't Loki's. He stared helplessly into the trickster's face, which was set in concentration, green eyes fierce. Out of the corners of his eyes, Tony could see flares of green erupt from the hands plastered to his skin, and tingles that reminded him of electrocution rippled outward from them. They washed over him in waves that left him feeling hot and cold and exposed and secure all at once. He was reeling when Loki removed his hands, and there was a ringing in his ears.

"Wh-what the fuck-?"

Loki, taking advantage of Tony's shock, grasped the billionaire's chin and angled his face up, towards the meager light of the hanging lamp. "Much better."

Tony regained his senses and pushed himself backwards, nearly toppling out of his chair. Across the table, Loki straightened, looking unconcerned about Tony's imminent cardiac arrest. " _What did you do?_ " Tony's voice shook as his own hands flew to his face, and he touched his cheeks and brow, feeling for damage under Loki's watchful gaze. It took about ten seconds of this for Tony to realize that there was no pain from the prodding, no angry, resonating pulses from the bruises that he had been given. His hands flew to his chest, with similar results. Loki began to move around the table towards him, and the movement startled Tony out of his stunned stupor.

"You  _healed_  me!"

"Yes." Loki looked amused at Tony's display as he leaned against the nearest edge of the table.

" _...why?_ " Tony's heart was racing for the hundredth time that day, and he tried to calm himself.

Loki shrugged, a small smile on his face. The light hit him from behind, and his eyes were shadowed. "It was my doing. Well, the toilers were, anyway. You've no one but yourself to blame for the incident with the stairs..."

It took Tony a minute to work his way through "toilers". "The construction workers? What do you mean, your doing?"

Loki's smile grew an increment. "I may have given them a bit of... mental encouragement."

"Mental-?" Tony got it. "You manipulated them into attacking me?"

"Not entirely. I was fairly sure that their instincts would force them to stop you, but I required a definite means of escape and thought it would be worth giving them a little... push." Tony didn't think he sounded nearly sorry enough (or at all, honestly).

"What, so you decided to make up for it by healing me now?" Tony couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"Precisely." There was a terrific banging on the door, and Loki straightened. "It would seem that our time has run out...  _Tony_. You know how to contact me." He turned to collect the black book that remained on the table.

Tony's mind struggled to function, to overcome the lingering feeling of magic that set his teeth on edge, and he thought hard. Something was off about this. Loki would gloat about influencing the construction workers, sure, but making up for it?  _Healing_  Tony? Letting them start out on (sort of) equal footing?

Loki was already beginning to give off that green, pre-teleporting mist when Tony realized it. " _Wait!_ "

Loki stopped. "Yes?"

He turned slowly, book in hand, and Tony swallowed, praying he was right. "This is the Second Law, isn't it? You gave me a gift, and you'll have leverage over me if I don't give you something in return."

Loki was still for a moment, the light from above making his cheekbones look sharper than glass. Then he tossed his head back and laughed. When he met Tony's gaze again, his face held more delight than disappointment. "I chose my opponent well. Yes, this is the Second Law."

Tony felt weak-kneed at the near-miss. "Ah. Right. Right, I need to... to give you something..." Tony looked down at himself, patting his pockets desperately (of all the days to forget to wear a watch...). Eventually, he disengaged one of his cuff-links and offered it to the trickster, who stepped forward after a momentary pause.

The cool fingers brushed Tony's palm, the unnatural silkiness leaving behind a shiver that Tony couldn't quite stifle. It didn't help that Loki didn't step back, instead remaining close as he examined the silver link.

"AES. What does it mean?"

Tony had forgotten that they were engraved (he rarely had time to consciously pick a design). "Anthony Edward Stark. My name." Then he felt a surge of panic- couldn't magicians do anything to you if they knew your name?

Loki noticed the look on Tony's face and smirked, interpreting it perfectly. "Worry not. I possessed the ability to turn you into something small and slimy prior to learning your birth name."

Tony barked a surprised laugh at the unexpected deadpan. "It's a valid concern."

Loki's shoulders trembled in a moment of silent laughter. "Perhaps." His eyes were sparkling when they met Tony's (was it laughter or danger in their depths?), and while Tony was no stranger to proximity, he suddenly wished that there was a yard or so of additional space between them.

A loud BANG from the door reminded them of the time constraint, and Loki vanished without another word. Tony supposed that he wasn't one for long goodbyes.

Then the door burst open, striking the wall soundly as Fury barreled into the basement with a personal battering ram in his hands and a team of S.H.E.I.L.D. agents behind him, the combined shouts colliding and turning to jibber-jabber in the air as they brandished their guns.

Tony raised his hands meekly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not mine, warnings for the usual, etc.
> 
> Cheers,  
> BlackSheep

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I have a lot of chapters already written, so I'll be posting one or two a day from now on.
> 
> Cheers,  
> BlackSheep


End file.
